He was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, with
an arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. His
shaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by the
weather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were not
improved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner of
his left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were bright
and searching, with something of menace and of authority in their
quick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befitted
one who was wont to set his face against danger. A straight
sword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over his
shoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandine
of chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was no
holiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. A
white surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centre
covered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom at
the side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to his
grim, war-worn equipment.

"Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Good
even to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in an
instant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissing
her violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid,
however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off after
the other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, and
dropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turned
back and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relish
and satisfaction.