so very lonely a place,
made him involuntarily start; but looking at the boy, and discovering,
by the arch malicious expression of his countenance, that the urchin saw
and enjoyed his slight tremor, he became convinced that the whole was
a concerted stratagem, and determined to know by whom, or for what
purpose, the trick was played off.

Accordingly, he remained perfectly quiet all the time that the hammer
continued to sound, being about the space usually employed in fixing
a horse-shoe. But the instant the sound ceased, Tressilian, instead of
interposing the space of time which his guide had required, started up
with his sword in his hand, ran round the thicket, and confronted a man
in a farrier's leathern apron, but otherwise fantastically attired in a
bear-skin dressed with the fur on, and a cap of the same, which almost
hid the sooty and begrimed features of the wearer. "Come back, come
back!" cried the boy to Tressilian, "or you will be torn to pieces; no
man lives that looks on him." In fact, the invisible smith (now fully
visible) heaved up his hammer, and showed symptoms of doing battle.

But when the boy observed that neither his own entreaties nor the
menaces of the farrier appeared to change Tressilian's purpose, but
that, on the contrary, he confronted the hammer with his drawn sword,
he exclaimed to the smith in turn, "Wayland, touch him not, or you will
come by the worse!--the gentleman is a true gentleman, and a bold."

"So thou hast betrayed me, Flibbertigibbet?" said the smith; "it shall
be the worse for thee!"

"Be who thou wilt," said Tressilian, "thou art in no danger from me,
so thou tell me the meaning of this practice, and why thou drivest thy
trade in this mysterious fashion."

The smith, however, turning to Tressilian, exclaimed, in a threatening
tone, "Who questions the Keeper of the Crystal Castle of Light, the Lord
of the Green Lion, the Rider of the Red Dragon? Hence!--avoid thee, ere
I summon Talpack with his fiery lance, to quell, crush, and consume!"
These words he uttered with violent gesticulation, mouthing, and
flourishing his hammer.

"Peace, thou vile cozener, with thy gipsy cant!" replied Tressilian
scornfully, "and follow me to the next magistrate, or I will cut thee
over the pate."

"Peace, I pray thee, good Wayland!" said the boy. "Credit me, the
swaggering vein will not pass here; you must cut boon whids." ["Give
good words."--SLANG DIALECT.]

"I think, worshipful sir