reement with
them, and so the matter was decided. Fletcher went down to arm and
mount, and all the world knows the story of the foolish, ill-fated
quarrel which robbed Monmouth of two of his most valued adherents.
By ill-luck the Scot's eyes lighted upon the fine horse that Dare had
brought from Ford Abbey. It occurred to him that nothing could be more
fitting than that the best man should sit upon the best horse, and he
forthwith led the beast from the stables and was about to mount when
Dare came forth to catch him in the very act. The goldsmith was a rude,
peppery fellow, who did not mince his words.

"What a plague are you doing with that horse?" he cried.

Fletcher paused, one foot in the stirrup, and looked the fellow up and
down. "I am mounting it," said he, and proceeded to do as he said.

But Dare caught him by the tails of his coat and brought him back to
earth.

"You are making a mistake, Mr. Fletcher," he cried angrily. "That horse
is mine."

Fletcher, whose temper was by no means of the most peaceful, kept
himself with difficulty in hand at the indignity Dare offered him.

"Yours?" quoth he.

"Aye, mine. I brought it from Ford Abbey myself."

"For the Duke's service," Fletcher reminded him. "For my own, sir; for
my own I would have you know." And brushing the Scot aside, he caught
the bridle, and sought to wrench it from Fletcher's hand.

But Fletcher maintained his hold. "Softly, Mr. Dare," said he. "Ye're
a trifle o'er true to your name, as you once told his late Majesty
yourself."

"Take your hands from my horse," Dare shouted, very angry.

Several loiterers in the yard gathered round to watch the scene, culling
diversion from it and speculating upon the conclusion it might have. One
rash young fellow offered audibly to lay ten to one that Paymaster Dare
would have the best of the argument.

Dare overheard, and was spurred on.

"I will, by God!" he answered. "Come, Mr. Fletcher!" And he shook the
bridle again.

There was a dull flush showing through the tan of Fletcher's skin.
"Mr. Dare," said he, "this horse is no more yours than mine. It is the
Duke's, and I, as one o' the leaders, claim it in the Duke's service."

"Aye, sir," cried an onlooker, encouraging Fletcher, and did the
mischief. It so goaded Dare to have his antagonist in this trifling
matter supported that he utterly lost his head.

"I have said the horse is mine, and I repeat it. Let go the bridle--let
it go!" Still, Fl