"Here's no road for the likes o' you!" said he while I was yet at some distance. "Off wi' you!" Howbeit, seeing I still advanced he clapped to the gate, and letting fall the bar, cursed me roundly through the grille.
"I would see Sir Richard Brandon!" says I.
"Then ye can't--nowise. So be off and be danged!"
"Open the gate!" says I.
"Be hanged for a murderous-looking rogue, a lousy thief, a wastrel and a hangdog knave!" says he all in a breath.
"All true enough!" says I. "And now, open the gate!"
"Be danged for a prigging gipsy--'A Gad! I'll have ye clapped i' the pillory for a black-visaged clapper-claw!"
"Unbar!" says I, "Or it shall go plaguy ill wi' you when I come in."
At this he spat upon me through the grille and chuckled. Now, glancing about, I espied a stone hard by about the bigness of a man's head and, laying by my staff, I wrenched the stone from where it lay and, raising it aloft, hove it with all my strength; whereon the gate crashed open so suddenly as to catch the fellow a buffet that laid him sprawling on his back, and as he strove to rise I pinned him down with my staff and kicked him heartily.
"And now," says I, "up with you and bring me to your master."
But or ever he could do aught but groan and rub his hurts, I heard the sound of approaching hoof-strokes and, turning, beheld a lady bravely mounted who galloped furiously towards us down the avenue. When almost upon us she swung her powerful beast aside and, checking him with strong wrist, sat looking down at me from the shade of her plumed hat.
"What is this?" she demanded, and her eyes swept over me grey and wide and fearless. "Who--who are you?"
Now at the sound of her voice so rich and wonder-sweet, I felt strangely abashed and, finding no word, turned from her to scowl down at the man I had pinned beneath my broken shoe.
"Who are you?" she questioned again. "Speak!"
"A rogue!" says I, keeping my head averted. "A creeper o' hedges!"
"Ah--is't you?" said she in softer tone. "I saw you for a moment by lightning-flash near the gibbet. You are my man o' the woods, and, sir, I owe you much--very much--indeed, sir, if--"
"I am no 'sir'!" quoth I shortly.
"Gregory," says she, looking down on the fellow 'neath my foot. "Gregory, get up!"
"Gregory," says I, "stir not!"
"Sir, would you hurt my servant?" says she, knitting her slender black brows.
"I' faith!" I nodded. "The uncivil rogue forced me to burst open the gate."