ed the voice from without, "open to Locksley!"

"All's safe--all's right," said the hermit to his companion.

"But who is he?" said the Black Knight; "it imports me much to know."

"Who is he?" answered the hermit; "I tell thee he is a friend."

"But what friend?" answered the knight; "for he may be friend to thee
and none of mine?"

"What friend?" replied the hermit; "that, now, is one of the questions
that is more easily asked than answered. What friend?--why, he is, now
that I bethink me a little, the very same honest keeper I told thee of a
while since."

"Ay, as honest a keeper as thou art a pious hermit," replied the knight,
"I doubt it not. But undo the door to him before he beat it from its
hinges."

The dogs, in the meantime, which had made a dreadful baying at the
commencement of the disturbance, seemed now to recognise the voice
of him who stood without; for, totally changing their manner, they
scratched and whined at the door, as if interceding for his admission.
The hermit speedily unbolted his portal, and admitted Locksley, with his
two companions.

"Why, hermit," was the yeoman's first question as soon as he beheld the
knight, "what boon companion hast thou here?"

"A brother of our order," replied the friar, shaking his head; "we have
been at our orisons all night."

"He is a monk of the church militant, I think," answered Locksley; "and
there be more of them abroad. I tell thee, friar, thou must lay down
the rosary and take up the quarter-staff; we shall need every one of our
merry men, whether clerk or layman.--But," he added, taking him a step
aside, "art thou mad? to give admittance to a knight thou dost not know?
Hast thou forgot our articles?"

"Not know him!" replied the friar, boldly, "I know him as well as the
beggar knows his dish."

"And what is his name, then?" demanded Locksley.

"His name," said the hermit--"his name is Sir Anthony of
Scrabelstone--as if I would drink with a man, and did not know his
name!"

"Thou hast been drinking more than enough, friar," said the woodsman,
"and, I fear, prating more than enough too."

"Good yeoman," said the knight, coming forward, "be not wroth with my
merry host. He did but afford me the hospitality which I would have
compelled from him if he had refused it."

"Thou compel!" said the friar; "wait but till have changed this grey
gown for a green cassock, and if I make not a quarter-staff ring twelve
upon thy pate, I am neither true