None of the People of the Hills could tell me anything about him , and I supposed that he had left England . ' Puck turned ; lay on the other elbow , and thought for a long time . ` Let 's see , ' he said at last . ` It must have been some few years later -- a year or two before the Conquest , I think -- that I came back to Pook 's Hill here , and one evening I heard old Hobden talking about Weland 's Ford . ' ` If you mean old Hobden the hedger , he 's only seventy-two . He told me so himself , ' said Dan . ` He 's a intimate friend of ours . ' ` You 're quite right , ' Puck replied . ' I meant old Hobden 's ninth great-grandfather . He was a free man and burned charcoal hereabouts . I 've known the family , father and son , so long that I get confused sometimes . 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 XXXXX 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 ! ''
Bridge Dan Ford Pook Una Weland evening hedger kingfisher year