ut so
lamentably, when he was about to be bound to a stranger, that Stephen
stepped forward in his stead, begging that the boy might go with Giles.
The soldier made a contemptuous sound, but consented, and Stephen found
that his companion in misfortune, whose left elbow was tied to his
right, was George Bates.

The two lads looked at each other in a strange, rueful manner, and
Stephen said, "Shake hands, comrade. If we are to die, let us bear no
ill-will."

George gave a cold, limp, trembling hand. He looked wretched, subdued,
tearful, and nearly starved, for he had no kinsfolk at hand, and his
master was too angry with him, and too much afraid of compromising
himself to have sent him any supplies. Stephen tried to unbutton his
own pouch, but not succeeding with his left hand, bade George try with
his right. "There's a cake of bread there," he said. "Eat that, and
thou'lt be able better to stand up like a man, come what will."

George devoured it eagerly. "Ah!" he said, in a stronger voice,
"Stephen Birkenholt, thou art an honest fellow. I did thee wrong. If
ever we get out of this plight--"

Here they were ordered to march, and in a long and doleful procession
they set forth. The streets were lined with men-at-arms, for all the
affections and sympathies of the people were with the unfortunate boys,
and a rescue was apprehended.

In point of fact, the Lord Mayor and aldermen were afraid of the King's
supposing them to have organised the assault on their rivals, and each
was therefore desirous to show severity to any one's apprentices save
his own; while the nobility were afraid of contumacy on the part of the
citizens, and were resolved to crush down every rioter among them, so
that they had filled the city with their armed retainers. Fathers and
mothers, masters and dames, sisters and fellow prentices, found their
doors closely guarded, and could only look with tearful, anxious eyes,
at the processions of poor youths, many of them mere children, who were
driven from each of the jails to the Guildhall. There when all
collected the entire number amounted to two hundred and seventy-eight
though a certain proportion of these were grown men, priests, wherrymen
and beggars, who had joined the rabble in search of plunder.

It did not look well for them that the Duke of Norfolk and his son, the
Earl of Surrey, were joined in the commission with the Lord Mayor. The
upper end of the great hall was filled with