He was a brawny dalesman, of perhaps thirty.

He was approaching the travellers with the customary salutations of a host, when, checking himself, and coming to Ralph, he said in a low tone, "I ask pardon, sir, but is your name Ray ?--Captain--hush!" he whispered; and then, becoming suddenly mute, without waiting for a reply to his questions, he handed the horses to a man who came up at the moment, and beckoned Ralph and Sim to follow him, not through the front of the house, but towards the yard that led to the back.
"Don't you know me ?" he said as soon as he had conveyed them, as if by stealth, into a little room detached from the rest of the house.
"Surely it's Brown?
And how are you, my lad ?" "Gayly; and you seem gayly yourself, and not much altered since the great days at Dunbar--only a bit lustier, mayhap, and with something more of beard.

I'll never forget the days I served under you!" "That's well, Brown; but why did you bring us round here ?" said Ralph.
"Hush!" whispered the landlord.

"I've a pack of the worst bloodhounds from Carlisle just come.

They're this minute down by the coach.