d, I make it my first suit to you to spare him also," pleaded
Dick.

"It is an old, condemned rogue, thief, and vagabond, Master Shelton,"
said the earl. "He hath been gallows-ripe this score of years. And,
whether for one thing or another, whether to-morrow or the day after,
where is the great choice?"

"Yet, my lord, it was through love to me that he came hither," answered
Dick, "and I were churlish and thankless to desert him."

"Master Shelton, ye are troublesome," replied the earl, severely. "It is
an evil way to prosper in this world. Howbeit, and to be quit of your
importunity, I will once more humour you. Go, then, together; but go
warily, and get swiftly out of Shoreby town. For this Sir Daniel (whom
may the saints confound!) thirsteth most greedily to have your blood."

"My lord, I do now offer you in words my gratitude, trusting at some
brief date to pay you some of it in service," replied Dick, as he turned
from the apartment.

CHAPTER VI--ARBLASTER AGAIN

When Dick and Lawless were suffered to steal, by a back way, out of the
house where Lord Risingham held his garrison, the evening had already
come.

They paused in shelter of the garden wall to consult on their best
course. The danger was extreme. If one of Sir Daniel's men caught sight
of them and raised the view-hallo, they would be run down and butchered
instantly. And not only was the town of Shoreby a mere net of peril for
their lives, but to make for the open country was to run the risk of the
patrols.

A little way off, upon some open ground, they spied a windmill standing;
and hard by that, a very large granary with open doors.

"How if we lay there until the night fall?" Dick proposed.

And Lawless having no better suggestion to offer, they made a straight
push for the granary at a run, and concealed themselves behind the door
among some straw. The daylight rapidly departed; and presently the moon
was silvering the frozen snow. Now or never was their opportunity to
gain the Goat and Bagpipes unobserved and change their tell-tale
garments. Yet even then it was advisable to go round by the outskirts,
and not run the gauntlet of the market-place, where, in the concourse of
people, they stood the more imminent peril to be recognised and slain.

This course was a long one. It took them not far from the house by the
beach, now lying dark and silent, and brought them forth at last by the
margin of the harbour. Many of the