Ralph's eyes flashed, and his cheeks reddened as he listened hereto;
but he spake quietly:

"Master Clement, how far dost thou make it to Higham-on-the-Way?"

"A matter of forty miles," said the Chapman; "because, as
thou wottest, if ye ride south from hence, ye shall presently
bring your nose up against the big downs, and must needs
climb them at once; and when ye are at the top of Bear Hill,
and look south away ye shall see nought but downs on downs
with never a road to call a road, and never a castle,
or church, or homestead: nought but some shepherd's hut;
or at the most the little house of a holy man with a little
chapel thereby in some swelly of the chalk, where the water hath
trickled into a pool; for otherwise the place is waterless."
Therewith he took a long pull at the tankard by his side,
and went on:

"Higham is beyond all that, and out into the fertile plain;
and a little river hight Coldlake windeth about the meadows there;
and it is a fair land; though look you the wool of the downs
is good, good, good! I have foison of this year's fleeces with me.
Ye shall raise none such in Upmeads."

Ralph sat silent a little, as if pondering, and then he started up and said:
"Good master Clement, we have eaten thy meat and thank thee for that and
other matters. Wilt thou now be kinder, and bid thy boy bring round Falcon
our horse; for we have far to go, and must begone straight-away."