?"

"Yes, sir."

"Life is full of danger. But for his King a Christian man must be
content to run risks. You aren't afraid, Martin?"

"No, sir," I answered bravely. I was afraid, all the same. I doubt if
any boy my age would have felt very brave, riding in the night like
that, with danger of spies all about.

"That's right, Martin," he said kindly. "That's the kind of boy I
thought you." Again we were quiet, till at last he said:

"You're going in a barquentine to Dartmouth. Can you remember Blick of
Kingswear?"

"Blick of Kingswear," I repeated. "Yes, sir."

"He's the man you're to go to."

"Yes, sir. What am I to tell him?"

"Tell him this, Martin. Listen carefully. This, now. King Golden Cap.
After Six One."

"King Golden Cap. After Six One," I repeated. "Blick of Kingswear. King
Golden Cap. After Six One."

"That's right," he said. "Repeat it over. Don't forget a word of it.
But I know you're too careful a lad to do that." There was no fear of my
forgetting it. I think that message is burned in into my brain under the
skull-bones.

"There'll be cipher messages, too, Martin. They're also for Mr. Blick.
You'll carry a little leather satchel, with letters sewn into the flap.
You'll carry stockings in the satchel. Or school-books. You are Mr.
Blick's sister's son, left an orphan in Holland. You'll be in mourning.
Your mother died of low-fever, remember, coming over to collect a
debt from her factor. Your mother was an Oulton fish-boat owner. Pay
attention now. I'm going to cross-examine you in your past history."

As we rode on into the gloom, in the still, flat, misty land, which
gleamed out at whiles with water dykes, he cross-examined me in detail,
in several different ways, just as a magistrate would have done it. I
was soon letter-perfect about my mother. I knew Mr. Blick's past history
as well as I knew my own.

"Martin," said Mr. Jermyn suddenly. "Do you hear anything?"

"Yes, sir," I answered. "I think I do, sir."

"What is it you hear, Martin?"

"I think I hear a horse's hoofs, sir."

"Behind us?"

"Yes, sir. A long way behind."

"Hold on then, boy. I'm going to pull up."

We halted for an instant in the midst of a wide fiat desert, the
loneliest place on God's earth. For an instant in the stillness we
heard the trot trot of a horse's hoofs. Then the unseen rider behind us
halted, too, as though uncertain how to ride, with our hoofs silent.

"There," said Mr. Jermyn. "You see. Now