retty cloth
under it (perhaps the gentleman's initials were C.R. just as his own
were D. de W. and on some of his things).

The great fat handle of a great fat pistol stuck up on each side of
the front of the saddle.

"Follow," said the gentleman to the iron-bound person, and moved off
at a walk towards a road not far distant.

"Stap him! Spit him, Seymour," called the pink-faced man, "and warn
him not of the hilt-thrust."

As he passed the corner of the camp, two men with great axe-headed
spear things performed curious evolutions with their cumbersome
weapons, finally laying the business ends of them on the ground as the
gentleman rode by.

He touched his hat to them with his switch.

Continuing for a mile or so, at a walk, he entered a dense coppice and
dismounted.

"Await me," he said to his follower, gave him the curb-rein, and
walked on to an open glade a hundred yards away.

(It was a perfect spot for Red Indians, Smugglers, Robin Hood,
Robinson Crusoe or any such game, the boy noted.)

Almost at the same time, three other men entered the clearing, two
together, and one from a different quarter.

"For the hundredth time, Seymour, lad, _mention not the hilt-thrust_,
as you love me and the King," said this last one quietly as he
approached the gentleman; and then the two couples behaved in a
ridiculous manner with their befeathered hats, waving them in great
circles as they bowed to each other, and finally laying them on their
hearts before replacing them.

"Mine honour is my guide, Will," answered the gentleman called
Seymour, somewhat pompously the boy considered, though he did not know
the word.

Sir Seymour then began to remove the slashed coat and other garments
until he stood in his silk stockings, baggy knickerbockers, and jolly
cambric shirt--nice and loose and free at the neck as the boy thought.

He rolled up his right sleeve, drew the sword, and made one or two
passes--like Sergeant Havlan always did before he began fencing.

The other two men, meantime, had been behaving somewhat
similarly--talking together earnestly and one of them undressing.

The one who did this was a very powerful-looking man and the arm he
bared reminded the boy of that of a "Strong Man" he had seen recently
at Monksmead Fair, in a tent, and strangely enough his face reminded
him of that of his own Father.

He had a nasty face though, the boy considered, and looked like a
bounder because he had pimples, a swel