"You'll ride no more, my drunken fool!" And in a rage he bellowed for his horse, flinging off the parson and Master Baine, who endeavoured to detain and calm him.

He vaulted to the saddle when the nag was brought him, and whirled away in furious pursuit.
The parson looked at the Justice and the Justice shrugged, his lips tight-pressed.
"The young fool is drunk," said Sir Andrew, shaking his white head.
"He's in no case to meet his Maker." "Yet he seems very eager," quoth Master Justice Baine.

"I doubt I shall hear more of the matter." He turned and looked into the forge where the bellows now stood idle, the smith himself grimy and aproned in leather in the doorway, listening to the rustics account of the happening.
Master Baine it seems had a taste for analogies.

"Faith," he said, "the place was excellently well chosen.

They have forged here to-day a sword which it will need blood to temper.".