Then a cock-crow rang out, close by, and the bird o' dawn's clear fanfare roused the feathered world to a rushing outpour of song. All the east was yellow now; a rose-light quivered behind the forest like the shimmer of a hidden fire; then a blinding shaft of light fell across the world. Springing to my feet, I shouldered my rifle and started across the pasture, ankle deep in glittering dew; and as I advanced Sir George appeared, breasting the hill from the east; Murphy's big bulk loomed in the west; and, as we met before the door of the house, Jack Mount sauntered around the corner, chewing a grass-stem, his long, brown rifle cradled in his arm. "Rap on the door, Mount," I said. Mount gave a round double rap, chewed his grass-stem, considered, then rapped again, humming to himself in an under-tone: "Is the old fox in? Is the old fox out? Is the old fox gone to Glo-ry? Oh, he's just come in, But he's just gone out, And I hope you like my sto-ry! Tink-a-diddle-diddle-diddle, Tink-a-diddle-diddle-dum--" "Rap louder," I said. Mount obeyed, chewed reflectively, and scratched his ear. "Is the Tory in? Is the Tory out? Is the Tory gone to Glo-ry? Oh, he's just come in. But he's just gone out--" "Knock louder," I repeated. Murphy said he could drive the door in with his gun-butt; I shook my head. "Somebody's coming," observed Mount-- "Tink-a-diddle-diddle--" The door opened and a lean, dark-faced man appeared, dressed in his smalls and shirt. He favored us with a sour look, which deepened to a scowl when he recognized Mount, who saluted him cheerfully. "Hello, Beacraft, old cock! How's the mad world usin' you these palmy, balmy days?" "Pretty well," said Beacraft, sullenly. "That's right, that's right," cried Mount. "My friends and I thought we'd just drop around. Ain't you glad, Beacraft, old buck?" "Not very," said Beacraft. "Not very!" echoed Mount, in apparent dismay and sorrow. "Ain't you enj'yin' good health, Beacraft?" "I'm well, but I'm busy," said the man, slowly. "So are we, so are we," cried Mount, with a brisk laugh. "Come in, friends; you must know my old acquaintance Beacraft better; a King's man, gentlemen, so we can all feel at home now!" For a moment Beacraft looked as though he meant to shut the door in our faces, but Mount's huge bulk was in the way, and we all followed his lead, entering a large, unplastered room, part kitchen, part bedroom. "A King's man," repeated Mount, cordially, rubbing his hands at the smouldering fire and looking around in apparent satisfaction. "A King's man; what the nasty rebels call a 'Tory,' gentlemen. My! Ain't this nice to be all together so friendly and cosey with my old friend Beacraft? Who's visitin' ye, Beacraft? Anybody sleepin' up-stairs, old friend?" Beacraft looked around at us, and his eyes rested on Sir George. "Who be you?" he asked.