odds, I would first get me
friends behind me, and then--" He stopped short, but Myles understood
him well enough.

"Sir," said he, with a gulp, "I do thank thee for thy friendship, and
ask thy pardon for doing as I did anon."

"I grant thee pardon," said the knight, "but tell thee plainly, an thou
dost face me so again, I will truly send thee to the black cell for a
week. Now get thee away."

All the other lads were gone when Myles came forth, save only the
faithful Gascoyne, who sacrificed his bath that day to stay with his
friend; and perhaps that little act of self-denial moved Myles more than
many a great thing might have done.

"It was right kind of thee, Francis," said he, laying his hand
affectionately on his friend's shoulder. "I know not why thou lovest me
so."

"Why, for one thing, this matter," answered his friend; "because
methinks thou art the best fighter and the bravest one of all of us
squires."

Myles laughed. Nevertheless Gascoyne's words were a soothing balm for
much that had happened that day. "I will fight me no more just now,"
said he; and then he told his friend all that Sir James had advised
about biding his time.

Gascoyne blew a long whistle. "Beshrew me!" quoth he, "but methinks old
Bruin is on thy side of the quarrel, Myles. An that be so, I am with
thee also, and others that I can name as well."

"So be it," said Myles. "Then am I content to abide the time when we may
become strong enough to stand against them."

CHAPTER 10

Perhaps there is nothing more delightful in the romance of boyhood than
the finding of some secret hiding-place whither a body may creep away
from the bustle of the world's life, to nestle in quietness for an hour
or two. More especially is such delightful if it happen that, by
peeping from out it, one may look down upon the bustling matters of
busy every-day life, while one lies snugly hidden away unseen by any, as
though one were in some strange invisible world of one's own.

Such a hiding-place as would have filled the heart of almost any boy
with sweet delight Myles and Gascoyne found one summer afternoon. They
called it their Eyry, and the name suited well for the roosting-place
of the young hawks that rested in its windy stillness, looking down upon
the shifting castle life in the courts below.

Behind the north stable, a great, long, rambling building, thick-walled,
and black with age, lay an older part of the castle than that peopled
by the