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 ye

raise scares upon a man for a few chaffinches and sparrows!"

"Hear him!" grinned Appleyard. "How many a rogue would give his

two crop ears to have a shoot at either of us? Saint Michael, man!

they hate us like two polecats!"

"Well, sooth it is, they hate Sir Daniel," answered Hatch, a little

sobered.

"Ay, they hate Sir Daniel, and they hate every man that serves with

him," said Appleyard; "and in the first order of hating, they hate

Bennet Hatch and old Nicholas the bowman. See ye here: if there

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