ascended on the other side. Here they wandered apart, and after an
interval closed together again to report progress. At the second
time of closing in they found themselves near a lonely oak, the single
tree on this part of the upland, probably sown there by a passing
bird some hundred years before; and here, standing a little to one
side of the trunk, as motionless as the trunk itself, appeared the
man they were in quest of, his outline being well defined against
the sky beyond. The band noiselessly drew up and faced him.

"Your money or your life!" said the constable, sternly, to the
still figure.

"No, no," whispered John Pitcher. "'Tisn't our side ought to say
that. That's the doctrine of vagabonds like him, and we be on the
side of the law."

"Well, well," replied the constable, impatiently, "I must say something,
mustn't I? And if you had all the weight o' this undertaking upon
your mind perhaps you'd say the wrong thing too. Prisoner at the
bar, surrender, in the name of the Fath--the crown, I mane!"

The man under the tree seemed now to notice them for the first
time, and, giving them no opportunity whatever for exhibiting
their courage, he strolled slowly toward them. He was, indeed, the
little man, the third stranger, but his trepidation had in a great
measure gone.

"Well, travellers," he said, "did I hear ye speak to me?"

"You did; you've got to come and be our prisoner at once," said the