Explore "The Perils of Peregrine" by Christopher Ward on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
And now our way lay adown a leafy lane lined with grassy banks, topped by hedgerows and trees, whose wide-flung rustling leafage cast a pleasant shade, while, high in air, a lark caroled faint and sweet against the blue. Crossing by a rustic bridge, a murmurous brook, I was ware of a rough-clad, villainous-looking man, who stood opposed to us, powerful legs apart, hairy fist grasping a short heavy stick or bludgeon, as the case may be. Evil face outthrust, he leered upon Diana's loveliness.
"Oh," said I, "what do you want?"