On the following morning, whilst the dawn yet cast its grey hue over the face of the land, two men, in shaggy frize dresses, arrived at the hut of the Cripple. They rode on rough, little beach-ponies, each provided with a sack. The mastiff bitch eyed the visiters with a malign aspect from her station beneath the door sill, and by her low mutterings warned them against a too near approach. They accordingly stood at bay. "Curse on the slut!" said one; "she has the eye of a very devil;--it might not be safe to defy her. Not a mouse is stirring:--the old Trencherman is as still as his bowl. Were it safe, think you, to wake him?" "Why not?" demanded the other. "He will be in a passion, and threaten, at first, with his weapon;--but when he knows we come to trade with him, I will warrant he butters his wrinkles as smoothly with a smile as you could desire. Strike your staff, Nichol, against the door." "The fiend fetch me, if I venture so near as to strike, with that bitch at the step. Try it thyself, Perry Cadger." "Nay, and it comes to that, I will rouse him in another fashion," said the other. "Master Swale--Master Robert Swale--Halloo--halloo!" "Rob, man, awake,--turn out for thy friends!" exclaimed the first. The growl of the mastiff bitch was now changed into a hoarse bark. Some stir was heard from the inside of the hut, and, in a moment afterwards, the door was unbolted and brought sufficiently open to allow the uncouth head and half dressed figure of the Cripple to be seen. A short blunderbuss was levelled directly in the face of the visiters, whilst an ungracious repulse was screamed out in a voice husky with rage. "Begone, you misbegotten thieves! What makes you here? Do you think I am an ale draper to take in every strolling runagate of the night. Begone, or by my body, I will baptize you with a sprinkling of lead!" "In God's name, Robert Swale," exclaimed the first speaker, "turn thy weapon aslant! Thou mayst do a deed of mischief upon thy friends. We are Nichol Upstake, and Peregrine Cadger--friends, Rob,--friends, who have come to drive bargains to thy profit. Open your eyes, Master--put on your glasses--we have gold in pocket, man." "Ha, ha, ha!" chuckled the tenant of the hut; "thou art astir, cronies! Ha, ha! I took ye for land loupers--sharks. By the Five Wounds, I knew ye not! Have patience a space and I will open." When the Cripple had dressed himself he came swinging forth in his bowl, and passing beyond the curtilage of his dwelling went to the beach, whither he was followed by his two visiters who had now dismounted from their ponies. Here he halted, and taking off his cap, exposed his bare head and loose white tresses to the morning breeze which came somewhat sharply from the water.