eeling
guilty towards Patrick, and unless he could have full time for
explanation, he preferred not falling in with him.

And at the same moment Kitson stepped towards the King. 'Sir, you are an
honest man, and we crave your pardon if we said aught that seemed in
doubt thereof.'

James laughed, shaking each honest hand, and saying, 'At least, good
sirs, do not always think Scot and traitor the same word; and thank you
for backing me so gallantly.'

'I'd wish no better than to back such as you, Sir,' said Kitson heartily;
and James then turned to Ralf Percy, and asked him what he thought of the
Douglas face to face.

'A dour old block!' said Ralf. 'If those runaways had but stayed within
us, the hoary ruffian should have had his lesson from a Percy.'

James smiled, for the grim giant was still a good deal more than a match
for the slim, rosy-faced stripling of the house of Percy, who
nevertheless simply deemed his nation and family made him invincible by
either Scot or Frenchman.

The difficulties of their progress, however, entirely occupied them.
Having diverged from the regular track, they had to make their way
through the inundated meadows; sometimes among deep pools, sometimes in
quagmires, or ever hedges; while the water that drenched them was fast
freezing, and darkness came down on them. All stumbled or were bogged at
different times; and Malcolm, shorter and weaker than the rest, and his
lameness becoming more felt than usual, could not help impeding their
progress, and at last was so spent that but for the King's strong arm he
would have spent the night in a bog-hole.

At last the lights were near, the outskirts were gained, the pass-word
given to the watch, and the rough but welcome greeting was heard--'That's
well! More of you come in! How got you off?'

'The rogues got back, then?' said Kitson.

'Some score of them,' was the answer; 'but 'tis thought most are drowned
or stuck by the French. The King is in a proper rage, as well he may be;
but what else could come of a false Scot in the camp?'

'Have a care, you foul tongue!' Percy was the first to cry; and as
torches were now brought out and cast their light on the well-known
faces, the soldiers stood abashed; but James tarried not for their
excuses; his heart was hot at the words which implied that Henry
suspected him, and he strode hastily on to the convent, where the
quadrangle was full of horses and men, and the windows shone with light