n a way that made me sorry for him. Then he fell on his
knees and prayed in his own tongue, and before he was done, sunk half-
fainting on a tree-trunk.

"Master Penry," said I, helping him from the ground, "you are not fit to
go on. I pray you, let me go alone. This pupil of yours is my friend,
and will give me the cloak. Stay here, unless you would spoil all; for
assuredly if he see you, he will turn at bay and yield nothing. The inn
is but a mile from here. In less than an hour I will be back with the
cloak, that I vow."

He had no strength in him to protest. So I left him there and ran on
towards the inn.

CHAPTER FIVE.

HOW I PARTED WITH MY CLOAK.

My mind was all in confusion as I hurried forward to the river-side inn.
Everything seemed to be going wrong with me, and I wished heartily I
was back in London with my fellow 'prentices, and my kind mistress, and
the sweet Jeannette. They, at least, believed in me; but here, everyone
with one consent conspired to tell me I was but a fool. I had made
myself a laughing-stock at Maidenhead; I had been pinned up against the
wall, by a boy my own age, in this place; I had assaulted a Mayor at
Oxford; I had parted with my cloak, which contained life and death in
the lining of it, to a stranger; and more than all, I had given my love
to a fellow who, if the Welshman was right, was a horrible traitor and
Papist! A fine piece of work, verily, and little wonder if my conceit
was somewhat abated after it all!

Yet, as I ran on, I thought more about my wild friend at the inn, than
about any one else. I could hardly believe him to be a rogue; although
all that the Welshman said of him tallied with my own observation. Nay,
more, to my dismay, I found by my heart that even were he all the rogue
he was painted, I could scarcely bring myself to like him the less.

"At least," thought I, "if he be a knave, he is an honest one; and my
cloak will be safe with him."

As I came to the inn, which I had scarcely yet seen by daylight, it
seemed gayer and more bustling that I had found it last night. Three
brave horses stood saddled and bridled at the door, and voices of good
cheer from within showed me that mine host was having some little custom
for his sack. I wondered if my solemn scholar was of the party, or
whether, the better to avoid detection, he still lay abed.

As I entered, I recognised the chief of the four men who sat at the
table as my friend the Bisho