The three-legged man was a tall, meek-looking person, who had bedizened
himself with gorgeous garments, a great feather, and a sword so long
and broad, that it differed little in size from the very thin and stiff
shanks between which it wandered uncomfortably.

"Young David in Saul's weapons," said Frank. "He had better not go in
them, for he certainly has not proved them."

"Look, if his third leg is not turned into a tail! Why does not some one
in charity haul in half-a-yard of his belt for him?"

It was too true; the sword, after being kicked out three or four times
from its uncomfortable post between his legs, had returned unconquered;
and the hilt getting a little too far back by reason of the too great
length of the belt, the weapon took up its post triumphantly behind,
standing out point in air, a tail confest, amid the tittering of the
ostlers, and the cheers of the sailors.

At last the poor man, by dint of a chair, was mounted safely, while his
fellow-stranger, a burly, coarse-looking man, equally gay, and rather
more handy, made so fierce a rush at his saddle, that, like "vaulting
ambition who o'erleaps his selle," he "fell on t'other side:" or would
have fallen, had he not been brought up short by the shoulders of the
ostler at his off-stirrup. In which shock off came hat and feather.

"Pardie, the bulldog-faced one is a fighting man. Dost see, Frank? he
has had his head broken."

"That scar came not, my son, but by a pair of most Catholic and
apostolic scissors. My gentle buzzard, that is a priest's tonsure."

"Hang the dog! O, that the sailors may but see it, and put him over the
quay head. I've a half mind to go and do it myself."

"My dear Amyas," said Frank, laying two fingers on his arm, "these
men, whosoever they are, are the guests of our uncle, and therefore
the guests of our family. Ham gained little by publishing Noah's shame;
neither shall we, by publishing our uncle's."

"Murrain on you, old Franky, you never let a man speak his mind, and
shame the devil."

"I have lived long enough in courts, old Amyas, without a murrain on
you, to have found out, first, that it is not so easy to shame the
devil; and secondly, that it is better to outwit him; and the only way
to do that, sweet chuck, is very often not to speak your mind at all.
We will go down and visit them at Chapel in a day or two, and see if we
cannot serve these reynards as the badger did the fox, when he found him
in his hole,