"Yes," the landlord replied; "their horses ate as much as they could, but they could not carry off my supply of corn. Indeed the horses were pretty well laden as it was with ducks and geese. I let them have as much wine as they could drink, and of the best, so they did not trouble to go down into the cellar. If they had they would likely enough have broached all the casks and let the wine run. There is nothing that these fellows are not capable of; they seem to do mischief out of pure devilment."
Ned had scarcely finished his meal when a tramping of horses was heard outside.
"The saints protect us!" the landlord exclaimed. "Here are either these fellows coming back again, or another set doubtless just as bad."
A minute later the door opened and a party of a dozen soldiers entered.
"Wine, landlord! and your best!" a sergeant said. "Some comrades who called here yesterday told us that your tap was good, so we have ridden over to give you a turn."
The landlord groaned.
"Gracious, sirs," he said, "I am but a poor man, and your comrades on parting forgot to settle for their wine. Another two or three visits, and I am ruined."
A volley of impatient oaths at once broke out, and without further hesitation the terrified landlord hurried away, and returned loaded with flasks of wine, upon which the soldiers were speedily engaged.
"And who may you be, young sir?" one of them asked Ned, who was sitting at a small table apart from the rest.
"I am simply a traveller," Ned replied, "engaged upon my master's business."