"Ah, Sam," said Boyd, "what are you seeking, you drunken dog?"
"Seeking you, master Boyd," answered Sam in a very different tone from that in which he had addressed the soldiers. "I have news for you."
"Ay, and what may that be?" demanded Boyd, with the utmost indifference of manner; "some of the gossip of Tamworth I suppose. The bailiff has beat his wife, or the mercer's daughter has gone off with the smart apprentice; but I have other things to think of, master Sam, to-night. Have you heard that the rough bands from Coleshill have burnt the houses on the abbey green?"
"Yes, I've heard of it," answered Sam; "and there has been a great fire up at the old castle too."
The woodman started.
"At the old castle! What do you mean?" he exclaimed. "Who should burn the old castle?"
"I didn't say it had been burned," replied the piper. "I only said that there was a great fire there; and very comfortable it was too, considering the cold night and the good company."
"Speak out, man! What do you mean?" demanded the woodman sternly. "This is no time for fool's play."
"I think not," answered the piper; "and so the plain truth is, that I was ordered, by a certain young lord, to tell you, that a certain young lady is up there safe with him and his tawny Moor, and that they are afraid to stir out while the wood is watched by the soldiers, without farther information and advice; and they look to you to give both, and moreover to send intelligence to her friends, that she is quite safe. There, I have delivered my message, better than ever message was delivered before, for I have given it word for word, and you may make the best of it."
"Up there, with him alone throughout the night!" said the woodman, in a tone of no very great approbation. "Yet he may be trusted, I think--but still 'twere better not. What will the other feel, when he hears of it?--No matter. It cannot be helped. There is nothing else to be done."