under horse-shoe iron, and the party turned
and saw Bennet Hatch come galloping--a brown-faced, grizzled fellow,
heavy of hand and grim of mien, armed with sword and spear, a steel
salet on his head, a leather jack upon his body. He was a great man in
these parts; Sir Daniel's right hand in peace and war, and at that time,
by his master's interest, bailiff of the hundred.

"Clipsby," he shouted, "off to the Moat House, and send all other
laggards the same gate. Bowyer will give you jack and salet. We must
ride before curfew. Look to it: him that is last at the lych-gate Sir
Daniel shall reward. Look to it right well! I know you for a man of
naught.--Nance," he added, to one of the women, "is old Appleyard up
town?"

"I'll warrant you," replied the woman. "In his field, for sure."

So the group dispersed, and while Clipsby walked leisurely over the
bridge, Bennet and young Shelton rode up the road together, through the
village and past the church.

"You will see the old shrew," said Bennet. "He will waste more time
grumbling and prating of Harry the Fift than would serve a man to shoe a
horse. And all because he has been to the French wars!"

The house to which they were bound was the last in the village, standing
alone among lilacs; and beyond it, on three sides, there was open meadow
rising towards the borders of the wood.

Hatch dismounted, threw his rein over the fence, and walked down the
field, Dick keeping close at his elbow, to where the old soldier was
digging, knee-deep in his cabbages, and now and again, in a cracked
voice, singing a snatch of song. He 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 master!" he said, grinning. "And where goeth M