ith a handful of dead
leaves? This comes of taking away your Doubt and Fear! I'll show you!'

A minute later they charged into old Hobden at his simple breakfast of
cold roast pheasant, shouting that there was a wasps' nest in the fern
which they had nearly stepped on, and asking him to come and smoke it
out. 'It's too early for wops-nests, an' I don't go diggin' in the Hill,
not for shillin's,' said the old man placidly. 'You've a thorn in your
foot, Miss Una. Sit down, and put on your t'other boot. You're too old
to be caperin' barefoot on an empty stomach. Stay it with this chicken
o' mine.'

Cold Iron

'Gold is for the mistress--silver for the maid!
Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.'
'Good!' said the Baron, sitting in his hall,
'But Iron--Cold Iron--is master of them all!'

So he made rebellion 'gainst the King his liege,
Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege--
'Nay!' said the cannoneer on the castle wall,
'But Iron--Cold Iron--shall be master of you all!'

Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,
When the cruel cannon-balls laid 'em all along!
He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,
And Iron--Cold Iron--was master of it all!

Yet his King spake kindly (Oh, how kind a Lord!)
'What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?'
'Nay!' said the Baron, 'mock not at my fall,
For Iron--Cold Iron--is master of men all.'

'Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown--
Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.'
'As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,
For Iron--Cold Iron--must be master of men all!'

Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!)
'Here is Bread and here is Wine--sit and sup with me.
Eat and drink in Mary's Name, the whiles I do recall
How Iron--Cold Iron--can be master of men all!'

He took the Wine and blessed It; He blessed and brake the Bread.
With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:
'Look! These Hands they pierced with nails outside my city wall
Show Iron--Cold Iron--to be master of men all!

'Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong,
Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.
I forgive thy treason--I redeem thy fall--
For Iron--Cold Iron--must be master of men all!'

'Crowns are for the valiant