Here and there, filmy pennants of white smoke, indicating the location of shepherds' cottages, would fling from behind the masses of foliage upon the farther hillsides. There was but one structure visible, however; a rambling pile of gray stone, shot with a trinity of embattled towers, which was nestled along the slope of a down, some three leagues distant from where they were standing. "What is that building yonder, my lord?" queried Sir Richard, indicating its location with outstretched hand and finger. "That," replied Bishop Kennedy, "is the Black Friar's Monastery. Our way, sir knight, leads directly beneath its sealed portcullis, which is opened but once in the year, and then only for the purpose of admitting its annual quota of novices. The final glance of the probationer's eye upon a free earth and heaven embraces this bit bonnie scene. When he is quit of the damp cell and noisome cloister, the crypt, lying within the belly of the hill, becomes the final repository of his lime-bleached bones." While Bishop Kennedy was talking Sir Richard's attention had been directed toward a solitary traveler, who was drawing near along the road that wound around the foot of the cliff and swept over the hill upon which his captors were bivouacing. The pilgrim was mounted upon a round-bodied, slow moving and remarkably long-eared donkey, which was exactly of a color with the rider's voluminous, cowled robe. As he came within easy view it could be seen that he was diligently poring over some sheets of manuscript. It appeared not to annoy the reader in the least when the donkey stopped, which it did every little while, to scratch its underside with its hind hoof. "Well, by my Faith!" exclaimed Bishop Kennedy, with a display of genuine enthusiasm upon catching sight of the pilgrim. "You know him, my lord?" "Yea--that I do, Sir Richard. Upon the round back of yonder ass rides a scholar, sir knight, whose fame will one day be proclaimed over all the land. Aye--and whose name shall live when thine and mine have been erased along with the epitaphs upon our tombs. Let me crave thy indulgence, and call another to keep thee company, whilst I go forward to embrace my friend Erasmus." "De Claverlok, attend us," he then called to the grizzled knight, who was sitting beside one of the roaring fires and skilfully balancing a pasty above it upon the blade of his halberd. De Claverlok quickly gulped down the remainder of the contents of the flagon beside him and came toward the two men wearing a good-natured smile, smacking his lips aloud and wiping his beard with the back of his broad hand. "The wine is to thy liking, I perceive," remarked Bishop Kennedy dryly. "Ah!" exclaimed the grizzled veteran heartily, "there's nothing, my men, that can equal it. Give me drink with the must in 't every blessed day of the year, ... eh!"