But Cuthbert would not break his fast. Night came on and he saw that he could not finish his journey, and there was no house anywhere in which to take shelter. As he went on, however, he noticed some shepherds' huts which had been roughly thrown together in the summer. He entered one of these to pass the night there, tied his horse to the wall, and set before the horse a bundle of hay to eat. Suddenly Cuthbert noticed that his horse was raising his head and pulling at the thatching of the hut. And as the horse drew the thatch down there fell out also a folded napkin. In the napkin was wrapped the half of a loaf of bread, yet warm, and a piece of meat--enough for Cuthbert's supper. At last, followed by his squire, and with his lance in hand, the youthful shepherd-warrior, then but fifteen years old, appeared before the gates of the monastery of Melrose. For Cuthbert had decided to serve God in a religious life rather than upon the battle-field. There was not a village so far away, or a mountain so steep, or a cottage so poverty-stricken, but that the boy Cuthbert, strong and energetic, visited it. Most often he traveled on horseback; but there were places so rough and wild they were not to be reached on horseback. These places along the coast he visited in a boat. Cuthbert thought nothing of hunger and thirst and cold. From the Solway to the Forth he covered Scotland with his pilgrimages. This, of course, was in the seventh century--a long time ago--yet stories are still told there of the wonderful work of Cuthbert. While he was young in the life of the monastery it was Cuthbert's good fortune to entertain an angel unawares, as, perhaps, we all do sometimes. At the monastery Cuthbert, so pleasant and winning were his manners, was appointed guest-master. Going out one morning from the inner buildings of the monastery to the guest-chamber, he found a young man seated there. He welcomed him with the usual forms of kindness, gave him water to wash his hands, himself bathed his feet and wiped them with a towel and warmed them. He begged the young man not to go forward on his journey until the third hour, when he might have breakfast. He thought the stranger must have been wearied by the night journey and the snow. But the stranger was very unwilling to stay until Cuthbert urged him in the Divine Name. Immediately after the prayers of tierce--or the third hour--were said, Cuthbert laid the table and offered the stranger food. "Refresh thyself, master, until I return with some new bread, for I expect it is ready baked by this time." But when he returned the guest whom he had left at the table had gone. Although a recent snowfall had covered the ground, and Cuthbert looked for his footprints, none were to be found. On entering the room again, there came to him a very sweet odor, and he saw lying beside him three loaves of bread, warm and of unwonted whiteness and beauty.