er's tent."

"Why not, then? What quarrel have you against the admiral, friend
Bobadil? Cannot you let Francis Drake fight his own battles, without
thrusting your head in between them?"

"Well, that is good! As if the quarrel was not just as much mine, and
every man's in the ship. Why, when he left Drake, he left us all, did he
not?"

"And what if he did? Let bygones be bygones is the rule of a Christian,
and of a wise man too, Amyas. Here the man is, at least, safe home,
in favor and in power; and a prudent youth will just hold his tongue,
mumchance, and swim with the stream."

"But that's just what makes me mad; to see this fellow, after deserting
us there in unknown seas, win credit and rank at home here for being the
first man who ever sailed back through the Straits. What had he to do
with sailing back at all! As well make the fox a knight for being the
first that ever jumped down a jakes to escape the hounds. The fiercer
the flight the fouler the fear, say I."

"Amyas! Amyas! thou art a hard hitter, but a soft politician."

"I am no politician, Captain Raleigh, nor ever wish to be. An honest
man's my friend, and a rogue's my foe; and I'll tell both as much, as
long as I breathe."

"And die a poor saint," said Raleigh, laughing. "But if Winter invites
you to his tent himself, you won't refuse to come?"

"Why, no, considering his years and rank; but he knows too well to do
that."

"He knows too well not to do it," said Raleigh, laughing as he walked
away. And verily in half-an-hour came an invitation, extracted of
course, from the admiral by Raleigh's silver tongue, which Amyas could
not but obey.

"We all owe you thanks for last night's service, sir," said Winter, who
had for some good reasons changed his tone. "Your prisoner is found to
be a gentleman of birth and experience, and the leader of the assault
last night. He has already told us more than we had hoped, for which
also we are beholden to you; and, indeed, my Lord Grey has been asking
for you already."

"I have, young sir," said a quiet and lofty voice; and Amyas saw limping
from the inner tent the proud and stately figure of the stern deputy,
Lord Grey of Wilton, a brave and wise man, but with a naturally harsh
temper, which had been soured still more by the wound which had crippled
him, while yet a boy, at the battle of Leith. He owed that limp to Mary
Queen of Scots; and he did not forget the debt.

"I have been asking for you; having he