A brave rally o' neighbours, sure 'nough," cried Mr. Blee as he
appeared amongst them. "Be Gaffer Lezzard come?"

"Here, Billy."

"Hast thy fire-arm, Lezzard?"

"Ess, 't is here. My gran'son's carrying of it; but I holds the
powder-flask an' caps, so no ruin be threatened to none."

Mr. Lezzard wore a black smock-frock, across the breast of which
extended delicate and skilful needlework. His head was hidden under an
old chimney-pot hat with a pea-cock's feather in it, and, against the
cold, he had tied a tremendous woollen muffler round his neck and about
his ears. The ends of it hung down over his coat, and the general effect
of smock, comforter, gaitered shanks, boots tied up in straw, long nose,
and shining spectacles, was that of some huge and ungainly bird, hopped
from out a fairy-tale or a nightmare.

"Be Maister Chappie here likewise?" inquired Billy.

"I'm waitin'; an' I've got a fowling-piece, tu."

"That's gude then. I be gwaine to carry the auld blunderbuss what's been
in Miller Lyddon's family since the years of his ancestors, and belonged
to a coach-guard in the King's days. 'T is well suited to
apple-christenin'. The cider's here, in three o' the biggest earth
pitchers us'a' got, an' the lads is ready to bring it along. The Maister
Grimbals, as will be related to the family presently, be comin' to see
the custom, an' Miller wants every man to step back-along arterwards an'
have a drop o' the best, 'cordin' to his usual gracious gudeness. Now,
Lezzard, me an' you'll lead the way."

Mr. Blee then shouldered his ancient weapon, the other veteran marched
beside him, and the rest of the company followed in the direction of
Chagford Bridge. They proceeded across the fields; and along the
procession bobbed a lantern or two, while a few boys carried flaring
torches. The light from these killed the moonbeams within a narrow
radius, shot black tongues of smoke into the clear air, and set the
meadows glimmering redly where contending radiance of moon and fire
powdered the virgin snow with diamond and ruby. Snake-like the party
wound along beside the river. Dogs barked; voices rang clear on the
crystal night; now and again, with laughter and shout, the lads raced
hither and thither from their stolid elders, and here and there jackets
carried the mark of a snowball. Behind the procession a trampled grey
line stretched out under the moonlight. Then all passed like some dim,
magic pageant of a dream; the distant