So soon as Calote saw that little ship, she knew what was to happen; for the villagers on the coast had told her many tales of how the French were like to come any day and burn and pillage; and how the men of Cornwall had been so harassed that they had demanded fighting men to be sent down to protect them and their coast; and the Commons desired that those lords who had estates by the sea should dwell upon them to succour their people. Calote stood a moment looking out. This was a little ship, and but one; might not these villagers overcome a few French and take them prisoners? Here would be a tale to tell! Immediately she sped up the coombe to the mill, and:-- "The French are coming," quoth she breathless. "Bar thy door!" "And so be burnt like a swallow in a great-house chimney," said the miller. "Not I," and calling to his wife and his man, and snatching up his youngest, he made ready to go with Calote. "But I 'll bring succour," she protested. "Wilt thou leave all the good corn to pillage?" "Yea, I will," answered the miller. "The murderers shall sooner have my corn than my company." "'T is not thy corn, 't is thy neighbours'," Calote admonished, but he had no ears for her; and she, to save her breath for running, stilled her speech, and left him. The sunlight struck level athwart the tree-trunks and along the wood-road that led twixt the mill and the village. "'T is now about the going down of the sun," she thought, as she hurried on. "They will be gathered at the cross, Peter, and the parson, and the peddler, and all those others, awaiting till I come to tell a tale and learn them of the Brotherhood." She stood still for breath, and heard a cry. "They have caught the miller afore he 's gone. Now they 'll be busy with the pillage of the mill, for a little." She started on, and stopped irresolute. "When they come to the cross at sunset, they have their hoes, their axes, and hammers with them; some of them will be shooting at the butts with arrows for pastime at the end of the day." She put the horn to her lips and blew a long blast. "There will not be so many men in that ship. Better that ours should come forth to meet them, driving them backward into the sea." She blew another blast, and another. "Better the affray should be here than in the village among the women and children." She ran on again, but not so fast. Again she blew the horn. And now in the distance she heard the village folk coming down the coombe. "They 'll think I 'm calling them to hear tales by the sea,--or that some mishap is befallen me." She heard them laughing as they came, and presently three or four appeared among the trees, and more, and more, some forty of old men and young, and little lads. Behind were women. "The French!" she cried; and at that word the foremost men stood still. "We 'll fling them back into the sea, that dare to set foot in England! We 'll"-- Something in their faces made her falter.