hut lay snugly. It was of wattle and clay, and the grass grew green upon the roof.

Dick went to the door and opened it. Within, upon a foul old russet cloak, the ferryman lay stretched and shivering; a great hulk of a man, but lean and shaken by the country fever.

“Hey, Master Shelton,” he said, “be ye for the ferry? Ill times, ill times! Look to yourself. There is a fellowship abroad. Ye were better turn round on your two heels and try the bridge.”

“Nay; time’s in the saddle,” answered Dick. “Time will ride, Hugh Ferryman. I am hot in haste.”

“A wilful man!” returned the ferryman, rising. “An ye win safe to the Moat House, y’ have done lucky; but I say no more.” And then catching sight of Matcham, “Who be this?” he asked, as he paused, blinking, on the threshold of his cabin.

“It is my kinsman, Master Matcham,” answered Dick.

“Give ye good day, good ferryman,” said Matcham, 41 who had dismounted, and now came forward, leading the horse. “Launch me your boat, I prithee; we are sore in haste.”

41

The gaunt ferryman continued staring.

“By the mass!” he cried at length, and laughed with open throat.

Matcham coloured to his neck and winced; and Dick, with an angry countenance, put his hand on the lout’s shoulder.

“How now, churl!” he cried. “Fall to thy business, and leave mocking thy betters.”

Hugh Ferryman grumblingly undid his boat, and shoved it a little forth into the deep water. Then Dick led in the horse, and Matcham followed.

“Ye be mortal small made, master,” said Hugh, with a wide grin; “something o’ the wrong model, belike.—Nay, Master Shelton, I am for you,” he added, getting to his oars. “A cat may look at a king. I did but take a shot of the eye at Master Matcham.”

“Sirrah, no more words,” said Dick. “Bend me your back.”

They were by that time at the mouth of the creek, and the view opened up and down the river. Everywhere it was enclosed with islands. Clay banks were falling in, willows nodding, reeds waving, martens dipping and piping. There was no sign of man in the labyrinth of waters.

“My master,” said the ferryman, keeping the boat steady with one oar, 

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