One night he thought he would watch a while.  He had just left a large barley-cake and some cheese, a bowl of furmety, and a dish of fruit.

“This monster,” thought he, “devours more victuals than the worth of his ugly carcase.”

He hid himself behind a tree, when presently he heard a rustling behind him.  Ere he could retreat he was seized with a rude grasp, and the gruff accents of his master were heard angrily exclaiming—­

“How now, sir knave?—­What mischief art thou plotting this blessed night?  Answer me.  No equivocation.  If thou dost serve me with a lie in thy mouth I’ll have thee whipt until thou shall wish the life were out o’ thee.”

Gregory fell on his knees and swore roundly that he would tell the truth.

“Quick, hound; I have caught thee lurching here at last.  I long thought thou hadst some knavery agoing.  What meanest thou?”

Gregory pointed towards the provision which was lying hard by.

“Eh, sirrah! what have we hear?” said his master, curiously examining the dainties.  “Why, thou cormorant, thou greedy kite, is’t not enough to consume victuals and provender under my own roof, but thou must guttle ’em here too?  I warrant there be other company to the work, other grinders at the mill.  Now, horrible villain, thou dost smell fearfully o’ the stocks!”

“O master, forgive me!—­It was mistress that sent me with the stuff, as I hope the Virgin and St Gregory may be my intercessors.”

“Thy mistress!—­and for whom?”

“Why, there’s a hole close by, as I’ve good cause to remember.”

“Well, sirrah, and what then?”

“As ugly a devilkin lives there as ever put paw and breech upon hidden treasure.  ’Tis the mine, master, that I mean.”

“The mine!  What knowest thou of the mine?”

“I’ve been there, and”—­

Here he related his former adventure; at the hearing of which Oliver Tempest fell into a marvellous study.

“Hark thee,” said he, after a long silence; “I pardon thee on one condition, which is, that thou take another message.”

Here the terrified Gregory broke forth into unequivocal exclamations of agony and alarm.

“Peace,” said his master, “and listen; thou must carry it as from my daughter.  I suspect there’s treason lurks i’ that hole.”

“Ay, doubtless,” said Gregory:  “for the neibours say ’tis treason to hide a mine royal.”

“A mine royal!  Ay, knave, I do suspect it to be so.  By my troth, I ’ll ferret out the foulmarts either by force or guile.  And yet force would avail little.  If they have the clue we might attempt to follow them in vain through its labyrinths, they would inevitably escape, and I should lose the reward.  Hark thee.  Stay here and I’ll fetch the writing for the message.  Stir not for thy life.  Shouldst thou betray me I’ll have thy crooked bones ground in a mill to thicken pigs’ gruel.”