The dog turned round towards the door, and growled; and the next instant some one raised the latch, and then knocked for admission. In haste, but yet with no agitation, the woodman lifted the various pieces of armour which cumbered the ground, removed them to the inner room, and locked the door. In the mean time the knock was repeated twice or thrice, and the dog bayed loud. The woodman drew the bolts, and threw back the door suddenly; but the only figure which presented itself, was that of Sam, the piper. "Why, what have you been about, Master Boyd?" he said. "You were hammering so loud but now, I could not make you hear." "Mending my tools," said Boyd, with a grim smile. "But what want you, Sam? Have you brought me any news?" "Ay, plenty," answered the piper. "First, let me put down my bag, and give me a draught of beer, if it be but thin penny ale, for I am thirsty, and my mouth is full of dust." "It has often been full of other things since day-break," said the woodman; "but thou shalt have the beer. Sit you down there, outside the door, and I will bring it you." The piper sat down on the rude seat at the door; and, while the woodman departed "on hospitable thoughts intent," the hound came and laid its head upon the lap of the wandering musician. But Sam, as curious as any of his class, was seized with a strong desire to see what the woodman had been really doing, and was rising to look in. The moment he attempted to move, however, the dog, though he knew him well, began to growl, and thus kept him there, as if he had been placed on guard, till Boyd's return. "Well, now for your tidings then," said Boyd, when the man had drunk. "Which will you have first?" demanded the piper, "news from the court, the castle, or the field?" "It matters not," said Boyd. "Shake them out of the bag, Sam, as they come." "Well then, from the court," said Sam. "It should have the place of honour, though there is but little honour in it. Well, the king is mighty wroth to hear that the Earl of Richmond has put to sea with a fleet and army to invade England. He laughed, they say, when he was told thereof; and, when he laughs, 'tis sure that he is angry." "But is Richmond on the sea?" asked the woodman. "I doubt it." "Nay, I speak but what men tell me," answered Sam. "They say he is on the sea with a great power. Many men refuse to pay the benevolence too, and declare it is an exaction against the law. All this makes Richard angry; and he rages at trifles like a mad bear, when the dogs have got him by the muzzle." "He'll need a bear-ward, soon," said Boyd; "and he may get one." "Men say he is insane," continued Sam, "and that his brain has never been right since his son died at Middleham. However, the queen's funeral was as glorious as could be; and Richard wept a basin full, I am told. But yet men have cried more over a raw onion, and never felt it much at heart."