ling me so absurd a legend as you
wished but now to put on me? Or rather show me, in good earnest, this
smith's forge, and I will give thee what will buy thee apples through
the whole winter."

"Were you to give me an orchard of apples," said Dickie Sludge, "I can
guide thee no better than I have done. Lay down the silver token on the
flat stone--whistle three times--then come sit down on the western side
of the thicket of gorse. I will sit by you, and give you free leave to
wring my head off, unless you hear the smith at work within two minutes
after we are seated."

"I may be tempted to take thee at thy word," said Tressilian, "if you
make me do aught half so ridiculous for your own mischievous sport;
however, I will prove your spell. Here, then, I tie my horse to this
upright stone. I must lay my silver groat here, and whistle three times,
sayest thou?"

"Ay, but thou must whistle louder than an unfledged ousel," said the
boy, as Tressilian, having laid down his money, and half ashamed of the
folly he practised, made a careless whistle--"you must whistle louder
than that, for who knows where the smith is that you call for? He may be
in the King of France's stables for what I know."

"Why, you said but now he was no devil," replied Tressilian.

"Man or devil," said Dickie, "I see that I must summon him for you;"
and therewithal he whistled sharp and shrill, with an acuteness of sound
that almost thrilled through Tressilian's brain. "That is what I call
whistling," said he, after he had repeated the signal thrice; "and now
to cover, to cover, or Whitefoot will not be shod this day."

Tressilian, musing what the upshot of this mummery was to be, yet
satisfied there was to be some serious result, by the confidence with
which the boy had put himself in his power, suffered himself to be
conducted to that side of the little thicket of gorse and brushwood
which was farthest from the circle of stones, and there sat down; and as
it occurred to him that, after all, this might be a trick for stealing
his horse, he kept his hand on the boy's collar, determined to make him
hostage for its safety.

"Now, hush and listen," said Dickie, in a low whisper; "you will soon
hear the tack of a hammer that was never forged of earthly iron, for the
stone it was made of was shot from the moon." And in effect Tressilian
did immediately hear the light stroke of a hammer, as when a farrier
is at work. The singularity of such a sound, in