The opposite party had not yet appeared on the field.

But when they came upon the ground, there sat upon the roots of the old thorn a figure as vigorous in his decay as the moss-grown but strong and contorted boughs which served him for a canopy.

It was old Ochiltree.

"This is embarrassing enough," said Lovel:--"How shall we get rid of this old fellow ?" "Here, father Adam," cried Taffril, who knew the mendicant of yore--"here's half-a-crown for you.

You must go to the Four Horse-shoes yonder--the little inn, you know, and inquire for a servant with blue and yellow livery.