He cast his eyes about in search of the bundle “of convenient size,” and his choice fell upon the one which covered the gap where Edmund Wynne lay hidden.  Having once selected this he proceeded straightway to climb over the impeding bundles to reach it from the corner where the ostler had tossed it just before.

This, however, proved no slight task.  He was burly and heavy, while the bundles were frail and loosely stacked and failed to yield to his feet that amount of support which, of all men, the stouter ones are supposed most to require.  This being so, it was not surprising to find that ere he reached it he stumbled and fell several times, until at last Sir Thomas took pity upon him and told him to desist.

“I would stand, my good man,” he said, “rather than thou should’st break thy neck, or I might lay upon some of this soft straw for the nonce.”

“A prison bed,” chimed in Sir George.  “Well, some folks like one thing and some another, there’s no accounting for tastes.”

The landlord scouted the proposal at once.  He felt that somehow he was on his mettle, and it was incumbent upon him to vindicate the honour of his house.  “Had the kind nobleman been possessed of a better acquaintance with him,” he said, “he would have known that it was not in his nature to be overcome by trifles.  Things, thank goodness, were managed better than that at the Cock hostelry,” and to support his statement he wiped away the perspiration from his brow, and made a further attempt to reach it down.

Edmund’s feelings during these critical moments would be easier to imagine than describe.  Every moment he expected that the bundle would be lifted off, and he anticipated the mortification of being dragged out and being brought face to face with the man whom he now most dreaded.  As the other advanced and the unstable walls of his shelter quivered until they threatened to fall upon him, he crouched down further and further into the corner, preferring rather to be buried under the solid squares of hay than to be discovered in such a position.  Sir Thomas’ words inspired him with a ray of hope, but his expectations were dashed as suddenly as they had arisen by the words of the baron and the action of the busy landlord, who, all unconscious of the torture he was inflicting, struggled valiantly on towards his quarry.

At last his perseverance was rewarded, and he found himself able to grasp the object of his toil; but Edmund as he felt the protecting roof of hay departing, snatched at the withes which bound it round, and dragged it down with all his might.

In vain did the furious landlord pull and tug.  Try as he would, it would not move an inch, and he was about to give it up in disgust and offer some reason for his lack of success, when Stanley again came to his aid.

“Stand aside, man; thou art too old for such a task, and too fat, too, perchance.  Let me get it out.  Odd’s fish, my good fellow, but there’s been much to do about a little thing.  Here it is, see.”