CHAPTER XV.
O knight, thou lack'st a cup of canary.
When did I see thee so put down ?--Twelfth Night.
Several knocks, as from the knuckles of an iron glove, were given to the door of the cottage, and a voice was heard entreating shelter from the storm for a traveller who had lost his way.

Robin arose and went to the door.
"What are you ?" said Robin.
"A soldier," replied the voice: "an unfortunate adherent of Longchamp, flying the vengeance of Prince John." "Are you alone ?" said Robin.
"Yes," said the voice: "it is a dreadful night.

Hospitable cottagers, pray give me admittance.

I would not have asked it but for the storm.

I would have kept my watch in the woods." "That I believe," said Robin.