irons. After groping about in a
corner of the room he lighted a stinking rushlight by means of a tinder
box.

CHAPTER XX. THE SQUIRE'S HOUSE

"There," he said, not unkindly, "there's a nice little 'ome for yer. Now
you, tell me wot you were doing spying on me. First of all, 'ave you
any money?" He did not wait for me to answer, but dug his hands into my
pockets at once, taking every penny I had, except a few shillings
which were hidden in my belt. He did not see my belt, as I had taken to
wearing it next my skin, since I began to follow the wars. I feared from
the greed which showed in all his movements that he vas going to strip
me; but he did not do so, thinking, no doubt, that none of my clothes
would fit his body.

"Well," he said, in his snarling beast voice, "wot's up 'ere, with all
these folk brought their beasts 'ere?"

I told him that the Duke had come co fight for the crown of England,
with the result, as I supposed, that the country people dared not trust
their live-stock at home, for fear of having them pillaged. He seemed
pleased at the news; but being an utter wild beast, far less civilized
than the lowest savage ever known to me, he showed his pleasure by
hoping that the rich (whom he cursed fluently) might have their heads
pulled off in the war, while as for the poor (the farmers close by us)
he hoped that they might lose every beast they owned. "Do 'era good,"
he said. "Now," he went on, "are you come spying 'ere along of the
farmers?"

"No," I said, "I am a servant of the Duke's, riding out to look for the
militia."

"Ah," he said. "Are yer, cocky? 'Ow'm I to know that?"

"Well," I said, "Look at my hands. Are they the hands of a farmer?"

"No," he said. "No, Mister stuck-up flunkey, they ain't. I s'pose yet
proud of yet 'ands. I'll 'ave yer wait at table on me." He seemed to
like the notion: for he repeated it many times, while he dug out hunks
of cold ham with his file, from the meat which I had felt as I crawled
in

"'Ow proud I dig
A'unk a cold pig"

he sang, as he gulped the pieces down. It was partly a nightmare, partly
very funny. I was not sure if he was mad, probably he was mad, but being
down in the burrow there, in the half darkness, hearing that song, made
me feel that I was mad; it was all a very terrible joke; perhaps madness
affects people like that. At last I spoke to him again.

"Sir," I said, "I've been up since two this morning. Give me a hunk of
cold pig,