"Nay; time's in the saddle," answered Dick. "Time
will ride, Hugh Ferryman. I am hot in haste."

"A wilful man!" returned the ferryman, rising. "An
ye win safe to the Moat House, y' have done lucky; but
I say no more." And then catching sight of Matcham,
"Who be this?" he asked, as he paused, blinking, on the
threshold of his cabin.

"It is my kinsman, Master Matcham," answered Dick.
"Give ye good day, good ferryman," said Matcham, who
had dismounted, and now came forward, leading the
horse. "Launch me your boat, I prithee; we are sore in
haste."

The gaunt ferryman continued staring.

"By the mass!" he cried at length, and laughed with
open throat.

Matcham coloured to his neck and winced; and Dick,
with an angry countenance, put his hand on the lout's
shoulder.

"How now, churl!" he cried. "Fall to thy business,
and leave mocking thy betters."

Hugh Ferryman grumblingly undid his boat, and shoved
it a little forth into the deep water. Then Dick led in the
horse, and Matcham followed.

"Ye be mortal small made, master," said Hugh, with a
wide grin; "something o' the wrong model, belike. Nay,
Master Shelton, I am for you," he added, getting to his
oars. "A cat may look at a king. I did but take a shot
of the eye at Master Matcham."

-43-