“Patched a pair of hose with it!” cried Xit. “You deserve to go in tatters during the rest of your days. You have destroyed the sole clue to my origin.”
“Nay, if that blanket will guide you, I have taken the best means of preserving it,” rejoined Og;—“for I think I have the hose still.”
“Where are they?” inquired Xit. “Let me see them instantly.”
“If they still exist, they are in a large chest in the upper chamber,” replied Og. “But be not too much elated, for I fear we shall be disappointed.”
“At all events, let us search without a moment’s delay,” rejoined Xit, jumping down, and hurrying up the staircase.
He was followed somewhat more leisurely by the two giants, and the trunk was found crammed under a heap of lumber into an embrasure. The key was lost, but as Xit’s impatience would not allow him to wait to have it unfastened by a smith, Og forced it open with the head of a halbert. It contained a number of old buskins, cloaks of all hues and fashions, doublets, pantoufles, caps, buff-boots and hose. Of the latter there were several pair, and though many were threadbare enough, it did not appear that any were patched.
Xit, who had plunged into the trunk to examine each article, was greatly disappointed.
“I fear they are lost,” observed Og.
“It would seem so,” replied Xit, “for there are only a doublet and cloak left. Oh! that a worshipful knight’s history should hang on so slight a tenure!”
“Many a knight’s history has hung on less,” replied Gog. “But what have we rolled up in that corner?”