But, Mr. Dymock had as yet served only two days, when one evening a
young man, a dark, athletic, bold-looking youth, entered the
blacksmith's shed. It was an evening in autumn, and the shed was far
from any house; Dymock's tower was the nearest, and the sun was already
so low that the old keep with its many mouldering walls, and
out-buildings, was seen from the shed, standing in high relief against
the golden sky. As the young man entered, looking boldly about him,
Shanty asked him what he wanted.

"I want a horse-shoe," he replied.

"A horse-shoe!" returned the blacksmith, "and where's your horse?"

"I has no other horse than Adam's mare," he replied; "I rides no other,
but I want a horse-shoe."

"You are a pretty fellow," returned Shanty "to want a horse-shoe, and to
have never a horse to wear him."

"Did you never hear of no other use for a horse-shoe, besides protecting
a horse's hoof?" replied the youth.

"I have," returned the blacksmith, "I have heard fools say, that neither
witch nor warlock can cross a threshold that has a horse-shoe nailed
over it. But mind I tell you, it must be a cast shoe."

"Well" said the young man, "suppose that I am plagued with one of them
witches; and suppose that I should have bethought me of the horse-shoe,
what would you think of me then? What may that be which you are now