Harry Randall's first impulse had been to look to the right and left for
the means of avoiding this encounter, but there was no escape; and he
was moreover in most fantastic motley, arrayed in one of the many suits
provided for the occasion. It was in imitation of a parrot, brilliant
grass-green velvet, touched here and there with scarlet, yellow, or
blue. He had been only half disguised on the occasion of Fulford's
visit to his wife, and he perceived the start of recognition in the eyes
of the Condottiere, so that he knew it would be vain to try to conceal
his identity.

"You sought Stephen Birkenholt," he said. "And you've lit on something
nearer, if so be you'll acknowledge the paraquito that your Perronel
hath mated with."

The Condottiere burst into a roar of laughter so violent that he had to
lean against the mud wall, and hold his sides. "Ha, ha! that I should
be father-in-law to a fool!" and then he set off again. "That the
sober, dainty little wench should have wedded a fool! Ha! ha! ha!"

"Sir," cried Stephen hotly, "I would have you to know that mine uncle
here, Master Harry Randall, is a yeoman of good birth, and that he
undertook his present part to support your own father and child!
Methinks you are the last who should jeer at and insult him!"

"Stephen is right," said Giles. "This is my kinsman's tent, and no man
shall say a word against Master Harry Randall therein."

"Well crowed, my young London gamebirds," returned Fulford, coolly. "I
meant no disrespect to the gentleman in green. Nay, I am mightily
beholden to him for acting his part out and taking on himself that would
scarce befit a gentleman of a company--_impedimenta_, as we used to say
in the grammar school. How does the old man?--I must find some token to
send him."

"He is beyond the reach of all tokens from you save prayers and masses,"
returned Randall, gravely.

"Ay? You say not so? Old gaffer dead?" And when the soldier was told
how the feeble thread of life had been snapped by the shock of joy on
his coming, a fit of compunction and sorrow seized him. He covered his
face with his hands and wept with a loudness of grief that surprised and
touched his hearers; and presently began to bemoan himself that he had
hardly a mark in his purse to pay for a mass; but therewith he proceeded
to erect before him the cross hilt of poor Abenali's sword, and to vow
thereupon that the first spoil and the first ransom, that it should