heels.

On the steeper ground my horse slackened a bit, but I urged him forward
till we were deep in the wood, with a choice of four or five paths, any
of which led, heaven knows where. Here I let him stand and get his
wind, while I turned over in my mind what should be my best course.

While I was debating, to my surprise, my horse pricked up his ears and
gave a loud neigh, which was answered from no great distance by another.
At first I supposed his companions had followed us, or that our
pursuers were nearer than I reckoned for. But, on listening, I
perceived that the strange horse was ahead of us, not behind. I
therefore moved slowly forward in the direction of the sound. What was
my surprise when I saw my own poor nag tethered to a tree, with my
cloak--the cause of all this trouble--laid carelessly over his back.

Master Penry's wild pupil was nowhere near, yet I scarce gave him a
thought at the time, so overjoyed was I to recover my long-lost prize.
I sprang from my borrowed horse, letting him stray where he would, and
fell upon the garment like a mother on her lost child, except that I,
having taken it to my arms, whipped out my knife and proceeded to rip it
up from top to bottom.

Master Penry had been right! The cloak was stoutly padded with printed
sheets, of which I took out fully three score. They were all the same,
a short tractate of twelve pages duodecimo, set in my master's type (for
I recognised the letter and the flowered initials), and printed, there
was no doubt now, at his secret press.

The title of the tractate was "A Whip for the Bishops," and to my wrath
and confusion as I read, I found it contained wicked and scandalous
abuse of their Graces of Canterbury and London, whom it called wolves in
sheep's clothing, antichrists, and I know not what horrid names besides!
And it was to carry this wicked libel I had been sped on this journey,
decked with my brave cloak, and commended to that Welsh varlet, who, no
doubt, was the author, and counted on me as the tool to help him to
disseminate his blasphemous treason! He little knew Humphrey Dexter.
Although I had put a queen's officer in the duck-pond; although I had
assaulted a mayor; although I had defied a bishop's warrant, and made
off on a bishop's horse, I yet was a loyal subject of Her Majesty, and
hated schismatics as I hated the Pope himself. They had played me a
trick among them; I would play them one back.

So I gathered up the l