` Then he hatched a plot , sitting on the limewash bucket . We gave out to ride o ' Tuesday to London and made a show of taking farewells of our friends -- especially of Master John Collins . But at Wadhurst Woods we turned ; rode home to the watermeadows ; hid our horses in a willow-tot at the foot of the glebe , and , come night , stole a-tiptoe up hill to Barnabas ' church again . A thick mist , and a moon striking through . ' I had no sooner locked the tower-door behind us than over goes Sebastian full length in the dark . ' `` Pest ! '' he says . `` Step high and feel low , Hal . I 've stumbled over guns before . '' ' I groped , and one by one -- the tower was pitchy dark -- I counted the lither barrels of twenty serpentines laid out on pease straw . No conceal at all ! ' `` There 's two demi-cannon my end , '' says Sebastian , slapping metal . `` They 'll be for Andrew Barton 's lower deck . Honest -- honest John Collins ! So this is his warehouse , his arsenal , his armoury ! Now see you why your pokings and pryings have raised the Devil in Sussex ? You 've hindered John 's lawful trade for months , '' and he laughed where he lay . ' A clay-cold tower is no fireside at midnight , so we climbed the belfry stairs , and there Sebastian trips over a cow-hide with its horns and tail . ' `` Aha ! Your Devil has left his doublet !
Does it become me , XXXXX ? ''
Hal John armoury cow-hide doublet night serpentines tower-door watermeadows willow-tot