bucks."

"Ha! this must be looked to," cried the abbot. "You say you know not
whence he comes? 'Tis strange."

"T' missmannert carl'll boide naw questionin', odd rottle him!" replied
Ashbead. "He awnsurs wi' a gibe, or a thwack o' his staff. Whon ey last
seet him, he threatened t' raddle me booans weel, boh ey sooan lowert
him a peg."

"We will find a way of making him speak," said the abbot.

"He can speak, and right well if he pleases," remarked Father Eastgate;
"for though ordinarily silent and sullen enough, yet when he doth talk
it is not like one of the hinds with whom he consorts, but in good set
phrase; and his bearing is as bold as that of one who hath seen service
in the field."

"My curiosity is aroused," said the abbot. "I must see him."

"Noa sooner said than done," cried Ashbead, "for, be t' Lort Harry, ey
see him stonding be yon moss poo' o' top t' hill, though how he'n getten
theer t' Dule owny knoas."

And he pointed out a tall dark figure standing near a little pool on the
summit of the mountain, about a hundred yards from them.

"Talk of ill, and ill cometh," observed Father Haydocke. "And see, the
wizard hath a black hound with him! It may be his wife, in that
likeness."