was all dressed in leather, only his
hood and tippet were of black frieze, and tied with scarlet; his face
was like a walnut-shell, both for colour and wrinkles; but his old grey
eye was still clear enough, and his sight unabated. Perhaps he was deaf;
perhaps he thought it unworthy of an old archer of Agincourt to pay any
heed to such disturbances; but neither the surly notes of the alarm
bell, nor the near approach of Bennet and the lad, appeared at all to
move him; and he continued obstinately digging, and piped up, very thin
and shaky:

"Now, dear lady, if thy will be,
I pray you that you will rue on me."

"Nick Appleyard," said Hatch, "Sir Oliver commends him to you, and bids
that ye shall come within this hour to the Moat House, there to take
command."

The old fellow looked up.

"Save you, my masters!" he said, grinning. "And where goeth Master
Hatch?"

"Master Hatch is off to Kettley, with every man that we can horse,"
returned Bennet. "There is a fight toward, it seems, and my lord stays a
reinforcement."

"Ay, verily," returned Appleyard. "And what will ye leave me to garrison
withal?"

"I leave you six good men, and Sir Oliver to boot," answered Hatch.

"It'll not hold the place," said Appleyard; "the number sufficeth not.
It would take two-score to make it good."

"Why, it's for that we came to you, old shrew!" replied the other. "Who
else is there but you that could do aught in such a house with such a
garrison?"

"Ay! when the pinch comes, ye remember the old shoe," returned Nick.
"There is not a man of you can back a horse or hold a bill; and as for
archery--St. Michael! if old Harry the Fift were back again, he would
stand and let ye shoot at him for a farthen a shoot!"

"Nay, Nick, there's some can draw a good bow yet," said Bennet.

"Draw a good bow!" cried Appleyard. "Yes! But who'll shoot me a good
shoot? It's there the eye comes in, and the head between your shoulders.
Now, what might you call a long shoot, Bennet Hatch?"

"Well," said Bennet, looking about him, "it would be a long shoot from
here into the forest."

"Ay, it would be a longish shoot," said the old fellow, turning to look
over his shoulder; and then he put up his hand over his eyes, and stood
staring.

"Why, what are you looking at?" asked Bennet, with a chuckle. "Do you
see Harry the Fift?"

The veteran continued looking up the hill in silence. The sun shone
broadly over the shelving meadows; a few whit