continually felt his saddle-bag with his hand, for in it, securely
strapped, he had placed the precious treasures of the Lady
Ermyntrude. As he saw the grand tawny neck tossing before him,
and felt the easy heave of the great horse and heard the muffled
drumming of his hoofs, he could have sung and shouted with the joy
of living.

Behind him, upon the little brown pony which had been Nigel's
former mount, rode Samkin Aylward the bowman, who had taken upon
himself the duties of personal attendant and body-guard. His
great shoulders and breadth of frame seemed dangerously top-heavy
upon the tiny steed, but he ambled along, whistling a merry lilt
and as lighthearted as his master. There was no countryman who
had not a nod and no woman who had not a smile for the jovial
bowman, who rode for the most part with his face over his
shoulder, staring at the last petticoat which had passed him.
Once only he met with a harsher greeting. It was from a tall,
white-headed, red-faced man whom they met upon the moor.

"Good-morrow, dear father!" cried Aylward. "How is it with you at
Crooksbury? And how are the new black cow and the ewes from Alton
and Mary the dairymaid and all your gear?"

"It ill becomes you to ask, you ne'er-do-weel," said the old man.
"You have angered the monks of Waverley, whose tenant I am, and
they would drive me out of my farm. Yet there are three more
years to run, and do what they may I will bide till then. But
little did I think that I should lose my homestead through you,
Samkin, and big as you are I would knock the dust out of that
green jerkin with a good hazel switch if I had you at Crooksbury."