ng nonchalantly shook the water from his rags and took a step
nearer the fire.
"That is a very unnecessary question, landlord," said the young man
with a smile, "nevertheless, I will answer it. I want shelter in the
first place, and food and drink as soon as you can bring them."
"Shelter you can get behind a stone dyke or in the forest," retorted
his host; "food and drink are for those who can pay for it. Get you
gone! You mar good company."
"In truth, landlord, your company is none to my liking, but I happen
to prefer it to the storm. Food and drink, you say, are for those who
can pay; you see one of them before you, therefore, sir, hasten to
your duty, or it may be mine to hurry you unpleasantly."
This truculence on the part of a supposed beggar had not the effect
one might have expected of increasing the boisterousness of the
landlord. That individual well knew that many beggars were better able
to pay their way than was he himself when he took to journeying, so he
replied more civilly,--
"I'll take your order for a meal when I have seen the colour of your
money."
"Quite right," said the king, "and only fair Scottish caution." Then
with a lack of that quality he had just commended, he drew his belt
out from under his coat, and taking a gold piece from it, threw the
coin on the table.
The entrance of the king and the manner of his reception exposed him
to the danger almost sure to attend the display of so much wealth in
such forbidding company. A moment later he realised the jeopardy in
which his rashness had placed him, by the significant glances which
the half-dozen rough men there seated gave to each other. He was alone
and unarmed in a disreputable bothy on the edge of a forest, well
known as the refuge of desperate characters. He wished that he had
even one of the sharp knives belonging to his friend the cobbler, so
that he might defend himself. However, the evil was done, if evil it
was, and there was no help for it. James was never a man to cross a
bridge before he came to it; so he set himself down to the steaming
venison brought for his refreshment, and made no inquiry whether it
were poached or not, being well aware that any question in that
direction was as unnecessary as had been the landlord's first query
to himself. He was young. His appetite, at all times of the best, was
sharpened by his journey, and the ale, poor as it was, seemed to
him the finest brew he had ever tasted. The landlord
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