"Nay," said Matcham, "I would 'a' saved us both, good Dick, for I can
swim."

"Can ye so?" cried Dick, with open eyes. It was the one manly
accomplishment of which he was himself incapable. In the order of the
things that he admired, next to having killed a man in single fight came
swimming. "Well," he said, "here is a lesson to despise no man. I
promised to care for you as far as Holywood, and, by the rood, Jack,
y'are more capable to care for me."

"Well, Dick, we're friends now," said Matcham.

"Nay, I never was unfriends," answered Dick. "Y'are a brave lad in your
way, albeit something of a milksop, too. I never met your like before
this day. But, prithee, fetch back your breath, and let us on. Here is
no place for chatter."

"My foot hurts shrewdly," said Matcham.

"Nay, I had forgot your foot," returned Dick. "Well, we must go the
gentlier. I would I knew rightly where we were. I have clean lost the
path; yet that may be for the better, too. An they watch the ferry, they
watch the path, belike, as well. I would Sir Daniel were back with
two-score men; he would sweep me these rascals as the wind sweeps
leaves. Come, Jack, lean ye on my shoulder, ye poor shrew. Nay, y'are
not tall enough. What age are ye, for a wager?--twelve?"

"Nay, I am sixteen," said Matcham.

"Y'are poorly grown to height, then," answered Dick. "But take my hand.
We shall go softly, never fear. I owe you a life; I am a good repayer,
Jack, of good or evil."

They began to go forward up the slope.

"We must hit the road, early or late," continued Dick; "and then for a
fresh start. By the mass! but y' 'ave a rickety hand, Jack. If I had a
hand like that, I would think shame. I tell you," he went on, with a
sudden chuckle, "I swear by the mass I believe Hugh Ferryman took you
for a maid."

"Nay, never!" cried the other, colouring high.

"A' did, though, for a wager!" Dick exclaimed. "Small blame to him. Ye
look liker maid than man; and I tell you more--y'are a strange-looking
rogue for a boy; but for a hussy, Jack, ye would be right fair--ye
would. Ye would be well favoured for a wench."

"Well," said Matcham, "ye know right well that I am none."

"Nay, I know that; I do but jest," said Dick. "Ye'll be a man before
your mother, Jack. What cheer, my bully! Ye shall strike shrewd strokes.
Now, which, I marvel, of you or me, shall be first knighted, Jack? for
knighted I shall be, or die for't. 'Sir Richard Shelton, Knight': it
soundet