Hob of the Dene was my Hobden 's name , and he lived at the Forge cottage . Of course , I pricked up my ears when I heard Weland mentioned , and I scuttled through the woods to the Ford just beyond Bog Wood yonder . ' He jerked his head westward , where the valley narrows between wooded hills and steep hop-fields . ` Why , that 's Willingford Bridge , ' said Una . ` We go there for walks often . There 's a kingfisher there . ' ` It was Weland 's Ford then , dear . A road led down to it from the Beacon on the top of the hill -- a shocking bad road it was -- and all the hillside was thick , thick oak-forest , with deer in it . There was no trace of Weland , but presently I saw a fat old farmer riding down from the Beacon under the greenwood tree . His horse had cast a shoe in the clay , and when he came to the Ford he dismounted , took a penny out of his purse , laid it on a stone , tied the old horse to an oak , and called out : `` Smith , Smith , here is work for you ! '' Then he sat down and went to sleep . You can imagine how I felt when I saw a white-bearded , bent old blacksmith in a leather apron creep out from behind the oak and begin to shoe the horse . It was Weland himself . I was so astonished that I jumped out and said : `` What on Human Earth are you doing here , Weland ? '' ' ` Poor Weland ! ' sighed Una . ` He pushed the long hair back from his forehead -LRB- he did n't recognize me at first -RRB- . Then he said : '' You ought to know . You foretold it , Old Thing . I 'm shoeing horses for hire .
I 'm not even XXXXX now , '' he said .
Beacon Bridge Dene Ford Hobden Smith Weland first kingfisher oak-forest