"And we be Killigrews, Roger Penryn, for such is the name Uncle Anthony says you have given," was the reply. "We mistook our man, that is all, and beg to tender our apologies for discourteous treatment. We think all the better of you for drawing your sword. But put it up, man, we will conduct you to Endellion. At the same time you must confess that it is not oft that a gentleman dismounts and lets a wandering tale-teller sit on his horse." "The old man was tired, and----" I did not finish the sentence, for I had become cool again, and I knew I had a difficult game to play, if I would get the better of these wild fellows. I could not see their faces, but I saw they were strong, well-built men. They carried themselves well, too, and did not slouch along as country squires often do. Presently I heard the roar of the sea, and soon after saw the dim outline of a large castellated building. Here and there lights twinkled, but altogether it was as gloomy a place as one could well conceive. "We give you a welcome at Endellion," said one of the Killigrews who had not hitherto spoken. "We be a rough branch of the old family tree, but the same blood flows through our veins." Some one gave a shrill whistle and a serving-man appeared. "Take this horse, and see that it is well curry-combed and foddered," was the command. A minute later, I with the others entered the old house from which, if I accomplished my purpose, I was to take the maid called Nancy Molesworth. My blood tingled at the thought of wild adventure; all the same, as I saw these sturdy men by my side, I very much doubted the outcome of the business. CHAPTER V. MY FIRST NIGHT AT ENDELLION. I had barely time to take note of the house on entering. In the dim light I could just see the grim gray walls on the outside and the great hall within. But nothing appeared to me with distinctness. The strident voices of the Killigrews had the effect of making me keep my hand on the hilt of my sword. I remember, too, that my heart beat faster than its wont, while both my eyes and ears seemed preternaturally sharp. Nowhere was a woman to be seen, and although I was no lover of women, especially of those who belong to that class with which my people mated, I felt that a house filled with rough men was no desirable residence for a gentlewoman. Presently I was ushered into the dining-hall, a huge oak-paneled room. At the head of the table sat an old man. He had long white hair and beard, and beneath his rugged forehead, and overshadowed by bristling eyebrows, gleamed a pair of piercing black eyes. He arose as I entered, and I saw that he was well on towards seventy. "A warm welcome, Roger Penryn," he said. "From what I hear my sons played a rough game at the gates yonder. I am sorry for this. The truth is, they thought that the Hanson varlets were playing them a trick. But enough of that. A man of your stamp bears no ill-will because of a mistake."