`` Hear him ! '' grinned Appleyard . `` How many a rogue would give his two crop ears to have a shoot at either of us ? Saint Michael , man ! they hate us like two polecats ! '' `` Well , sooth it is , they hate Sir Daniel , '' answered Hatch , a little sobered . `` Ay , they hate Sir Daniel , and they hate every man that serves with him , '' said Appleyard ; `` and in the first order of hating , they hate Bennet Hatch and old Nicholas the bowman . See ye here : if there was a stout fellow yonder in the wood-edge , and you and I stood fair for him -- as , by Saint George , we stand ! -- which , think ye , would he choose ? '' `` You , for a good wager , '' answered Hatch . `` My surcoat to a leather belt , it would be you ! '' cried the old archer . `` Ye burned Grimstone , Bennet -- they 'll ne'er forgive you that , my master . And as for me , I 'll soon be in a good place , God grant , and out of bow-shoot -- ay , and cannon-shoot -- of all their malices . I am an old man , and draw fast to homeward , where the bed is ready . But for you , Bennet , y ' are to remain behind here at your own peril , and if ye come to my years unhanged , the old true-blue English spirit will be dead . '' `` Y ' are the shrewishest old dolt in Tunstall Forest , '' returned Hatch , visibly ruffled by these threats . `` Get ye to your arms before Sir Oliver come , and leave prating for one good while . An ye had talked so much with Harry the Fift , his ears would ha ' been richer than his pocket . '' An arrow sang in the air , like a huge hornet ; it struck old Appleyard between the shoulder-blades , and pierced him clean through , and he fell forward on his face among the cabbages .
XXXXX , with a broken cry , leapt into the air ; then , stooping double , he ran for the cover of the house .
Daniel English Fift Forest George Grimstone Hatch archer ay polecats