In a little while the path we followed led up a somewhat steep ascent which, though not so precipitous as the place where I had entered the hollow, was a difficult climb, notwithstanding; seeing which, I put out a hand to aid my aged companion. But he repulsed me almost sharply:
"Let be," he panted, "let be, nobody's never 'elped me up this 'ere path, an' nobody never shall!" So up we went, the Ancient and I, side by side, and very slowly, until, the summit being reached, he seated himself, spent and breathless, upon a fallen tree, which had doubtless served this purpose many times before, and mopped at his wrinkled brow with a trembling hand.
"Ye see," he cried, as soon as he had recovered his breath sufficiently, "ye see, I be wunnerful spry an' active—could dance ye a hornpipe any day, if I was so minded."
"On my word," said I, "I believe you could! But where are you going now?"
"To Siss'n'urst!"
"How far is that?"
"'Bout a mile acrost t' fields, you can see the pint o' Joel Amos's oast-'ouse above the trees yonder."
"Is there a good inn at Sissinghurst?"
"Ay, theer's 'The Bull,' comfortable, an' draws fine ale!"
"Then I will go to Sissinghurst."