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Morris, William, 1834-1896

"The Well at the World's End: a tale"

"
"Truly," said another, "till we come to water it with the blood
of these wretches."
"Well, well, get on," said a third, "waste not your wind in talk;
those carles will make but a short run of it to the walls long
as it was for us, creeping and creeping as we behoved to."
The long man laughed; "Thou sayest sooth," said he,
"but thou art the longest winded of all in talking:
get on, lads."
They laughed again at his word and sped on with less noise;
while Ralph thought within himself that he was come into strange company,
for now he knew well that the big man was even he whom he had
first met at the churchyard gate of the thorp under Bear Hill.
Yet he deemed that there was nought for it now but to go on.
Within a while they all slacked somewhat, and presently did
but walk, though swiftly, through the paths of the thicket,
which Ralph deemed full surely was part of that side of the Wood
Perilous that lay south of the Burg of the Four Friths.
And now Roger joined himself to him, and spake to him aloud and said:
"So, fair master, thou art out of the peril of death for this bout."
"Art thou all so sure of that?" quoth Ralph, "or who are these that be
with us? meseems they smell of the Dry Tree."
"Yea, or rebels and runaways therefrom," said Roger, with a dry grin.
"But whosoever they may be, thou shalt see that they will suffer
us to depart whither we will, if we like not their company.
I will be thy warrant thereof.


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