into England after Dunbar. Soul of my
body, it is not thus that I had looked to fare when I took service at
Perth. I had looked for plunder, rich and plentiful plunder, according
to the usages of warfare, as a fitting reward for a toilsome march and
the perils gone through.

"Thus I know war, and for this have I followed the trade these twenty
years. Instead, we have thirty thousand men, marching to battle as prim
and orderly as a parcel of acolytes in a Corpus-Christi procession.
'Twas not so bad in Scotland haply because the country holds naught
a man may profitably plunder--but since we have crossed the Border,
'slife, they'll hang you if you steal so much as a kiss from a wench in
passing."

"Why, true," laughed Crispin, "the Second Charles hath an over-tender
stomach. He will not allow that we are marching through an enemy's
country; he insists that England is his kingdom, forgetting that he has
yet to conquer it, and--"

"Was it not also his father's kingdom?" broke in the impetuous Hogan.
"Yet times are sorely changed since we followed the fortunes of the
Martyr. In those days you might help yourself to a capon, a horse,
a wench, or any other trifle of the enemy's, without ever a word of
censure or a question asked. Why, man, it is but two days since His
Majesty had a poor devil hanged at Kendal for laying violent hands upon
a pullet. Pox on it, Cris, my gorge rises at the thought! When I
saw that wretch strung up, I swore to fall behind at the earliest
opportunity, and to-night's affair makes this imperative."

"And what may your plans be?" asked Crispin.

"War is my trade, not a diversion, as it is with Wilmot and Buckingham
and the other pretty gentlemen of our train. And since the King's army
is like to yield me no profit, faith, I'll turn me to the Parliament's.
If I get out of Penrith with my life, I'll shave my beard and cut my
hair to a comely and godly length; don a cuckoldy steeple hat and a
black coat, and carry my sword to Cromwell with a line of text."

Sir Crispin fell to pondering. Noting this, and imagining that he
guessed aright the reason:

"I take it, Cris," he put in, keenly glancing at the other, "that you
are much of my mind?"

"Maybe I am," replied Crispin carelessly.

"Why, then," cried Hogan, "need we part company?"

There was a sudden eagerness in his tone, born of the admiration in
which this rough soldier of fortune held one whom he accounted his
better in that same harsh