aster
Hatch?"

"Master Hatch is off to Kettley, with every man that we can horse,"
returned Bennet. "There is a fight toward, it seems, and my lord stays a
reinforcement."

"Ay, verily," returned Appleyard. "And what will ye leave me to garrison
withal?"

"I leave you six good men, and Sir Oliver to boot," answered Hatch.

"It'll not hold the place," said Appleyard; "the number sufficeth not.
It would take two score to make it good."

"Why, it's for that we came to you, old shrew!" replied the other. "Who
else is there but you that could do aught in such a house with such a
garrison?"

"Ay! when the pinch comes, ye remember the old shoe," returned Nick.
"There is not a man of you can back a horse or hold a bill; and as for
archery--St. Michael! if old Harry the Fift were back again, he would
stand and let ye shoot at him for a farthing a shoot!"

"Nay, Nick, there's some can draw a good bow yet," said Bennet.

"Draw a good bow!" cried Appleyard. "Yes! But who'll shoot me a good
shoot? It's there the eye comes in, and the head between your shoulders.
Now, what might you call a long shoot, Bennet Hatch?"

"Well," said Bennet, looking about him, "it would be a long shoot from
here into the forest."

"Ay, it would be a longish shoot," said the old fellow, turning to look
over his shoulder; and then he put up his hand over his eyes, and stood
staring.

"Why, what are you looking at?" asked Bennet, with a chuckle. "Do you
see Harry the Fift?"

The veteran continued looking up the hill in silence. The sun shone
broadly over the shelving meadows; a few white sheep wandered browsing;
all was still but the distant jangle of the bell.

"What is it, Appleyard?" asked Dick.

"Why, the birds," said Appleyard.

And, sure enough, over the top of the forest, where it ran down in a
tongue among the meadows, and ended in a pair of goodly green elms,
about a bowshot from the field where they were standing, a flight of
birds was skimming to and fro, in evident disorder.

"What of the birds?" said Bennet.

"Ay!" returned Appleyard, "y' are a wise man to go to war, Master
Bennet. Birds are a good sentry; in forest places they be the first line
of battle. Look you, now, if we lay here in camp, there might be archers
skulking down to get the wind of us; and here would you be, none the
wiser!"

"Why, old shrew," said Hatch, "there be no men nearer us than Sir
Daniel's, at Kettley; y' are as safe as in London Tower; and y