In an obscure alehouse in a by-street near the harbour,
three or four men sat drinking ale and eating a hasty mess
of eggs. They were all likely, lusty, weather-beaten fel-
lows, hard of hand, bold of eye; and though they wore
plain tabards, like country ploughmen, even a drunken
soldier might have looked twice before he sought a quarrel
in such company.

A little apart before the huge fire sat a younger man, al-
most a boy, dressed in much the same fashion, though it
was easy to see by his looks that he was better born, and
might have worn a sword, had the time suited.

"Nay," said one of the men at the table, "I like it not.
Ill will come of it. This is no place for jolly fellows. A
jolly fellow loveth open country, good cover, and scarce
foes; but here we are shut in a town, girt about with en-
emies; and, for the bull's-eye of misfortune, see if it snow
not ere the morning."

"'Tis for Master Shelton there," said another, nodding
his head towards the lad before the fire.

"I will do much for Master Shelton," returned the
first; "but to come to the gallows for any man--nay,
brothers, not that!"

The door of the inn opened, and another man entered
hastily and approached the youth before the fire.

" Master Shelton," he said, " Sir Daniel goeth forth
with a pair of links and four archers."
Dick (for this was our young friend) rose instantly to
his feet.

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