“Look at him,” cried the squire; “how proud and erect he stands!  His head is as small as that of a sparrowhawk, his eye large and quick, his body thick, his leg strong in the beam, and his spurs long, rough, and sharp.  That is the bird for me.  I will take him over to the cockpit at Prescot next week, and match him against any bird Sir John Talbot, or my cousin Braddyll, can bring.”

“And yo’n win, squoire,” replied the cock-master; “ey ha’ been feedin’ him these five weeks, so he’ll be i’ rare condition then, and winna fail yo.  Yo may lay what yo loike upon him,” he added, with a sly wink at Fogg.

“You may win the thirty pounds you want,” observed the latter, in a low tone to the squire.

“Or, mayhap, lose it,” replied Nicholas.  “I shall not risk so much, unless I get the three hundred from Dick Assheton.  I have been unlucky of late.  You beat me constantly at tables now, Fogg, and when I first knew you this was not wont to be the case.  Nay, never make any excuses, man; you cannot help it.  Let us in to breakfast.”

With this, he proceeded towards the house, followed by Fogg and a couple of large Lancashire hounds, and, entering at the back of the premises, made his way through the scullery into the kitchen.  Here there were plentiful evidences of the hospitality, not to say profusion, reigning throughout the mansion.  An open door showed a larder stocked with all kinds of provisions, and before the fire joints of meat and poultry were roasting.  Pies were baking in the oven; and over the flames, in the chimney, was suspended a black pot large enough for a witch’s caldron.  The cook was busied in preparing for the gridiron some freshly-caught trout, intended for the squire’s own breakfast; and a kitchen-maid was toasting oatcakes, of which there was a large supply in the bread-flake depending from the ceiling.

Casting a look around, and exchanging a few words with the cook, Nicholas moved on, still followed by Fogg and the hounds, and, tracking a long stone passage, entered the great hall.  Here the same disorder and irregularity prevailed as in his own character and conduct.  All was litter and confusion.  Around the walls were hung breastplates and buff-coats, morions, shields, and two-handed swords; but they were half hidden by fishing-nets, fowling-nets, dogs’ collars, saddles and bridles, housings, cross-bows, long-bows, quivers, baldricks, horns, spears, guns, and every other implement then used in the sports of the river or the field.  The floor was in an equal state of disorder.  The rushes were filled with half-gnawed bones, brought thither by the hounds; and in one corner, on a mat, was a favourite spaniel and her whelps.  The squire however was, happily, insensible to the condition of the chamber, and looked around it with an air of satisfaction, as if he thought it the perfection of comfort.