It was not without an inward sense of fear that the young knight moved toward the glowing blaze, after he had seen his horse safely led, though stubbornly contesting every inch of the way, around the corner of the building. As he approached the chimney-side, a huge wolfhound lying upon the hearth half rose upon its haunches. In the bright light of the fire Sir Richard could see the stiff, wiry gray hairs elevating along its spine, and the gleaming of white fangs as it curled its lips from off them and emitted a savage growl. "Crouch, Demon!" commanded the inn-keeper in a voice which, though low, seemed by far more menacing than the savage grumble of the beast. The hound instantly obeyed, resuming its recumbent attitude and regarding the intruder furtively the while out of the tail of its yellow eyes. By now the wind had risen to the strength of a hurricane; whining and shrieking dismally, it was dashing the rain with tremendous violence against the northern and eastern walls of the tavern. With an inward acknowledgment of his indebtedness to a kind providence for having set a haven of refuge of any description along the highway, the traveler took his place in a deep-seated bench beside the fire, unloosed the fastenings of his helm and removed his gauntlets. He made as if to unlock his greaves, but desisted upon a vivid recollection of the sharp fangs of the wolfhound. "By the rood, my good man, but how it doth blow," said he, rubbing his benumbed hands in front of the warm and cheery blaze. "A stoup of red wine or runlet of canary would scarce come amiss upon such a night, i' truth." With his foot touching the muzzle of the dog, the inn-keeper had taken his station before the fire; and, whilst the lower portion of his tall body was bathed in its ruddy glare, his head towered among the shadowy beams above. By the dim semi-light that barely laid itself against his pallid cheek, Sir Richard could see that his host was measuring him up point by point; and in a manner so insolently intent that he became possessed of a mad itching to attempt a chastisement of his tormentor. But two words, and these spoken to the hound, had the landlord uttered since the young knight had dismounted before the door. "Well!" exclaimed our pilgrim, rapping impatiently upon the table before him, "an thou hast finished with thy inventorying, man; bring on a stoup of wine. And be good enough to see to it, sir, that the drink be advance guard to a bit of supper." Thereupon the inn-keeper bent the incensed Sir Richard a bow that Lord Cardinal Bourchier himself might properly have envied. "Saidst thou not something, sir knight," he returned in the smoothest of tones, "of a runlet of canary?"