ou be, my bully boy?"

"I don't tell my name to every ragged fellow I meet in the road," said
the boy haughtily.

"What!" roared the man, clapping his hand upon the hilt of his blade, an
action imitated by his followers.

"Keep your sword in its scabbard," said Ralph, without wincing in the
least. "If you have business with my father, this way."

He sprang to his feet now, and gazed fiercely at the stranger.

"What?" cried the man, in a voice full of exuberant friendliness, which
made the lad shrink in disgust, "you the son of Sir Morton Darley?"

"Yes: what of it?"

"The son of my beloved old companion-in-arms? Boy, let me embrace
thee."

To Ralph's horror, the man took a step forward, and would have thrown
his arms about his neck; but by a quick movement the lad stepped back,
and the men laughed to see their leader grasp the wind.

"Don't do that," said Ralph sternly. "Do you mean to say that you want
to speak to my father?"

"Speak to him? Yes, to fly to the hand of him whom I many a time saved
from death. And so you are the son of Morton Darley? And a
brave-looking, manly fellow too. Why, I might have known. Eye, nose,
curled-up lip. Yes: all there. You are his very reflection, that I
ought to have seen in the looking-glass of memory. Excuse this weak
moisture of the eyes, boy. The sight of my old friend's son brings up
the happy companionship of the past. Time flies fast, my brave lad.
Your father and I were hand and glove then. Never separate. We fought
together, bled together, and ah! how fate is partial in the way she
spreads her favours! Your father dresses his son in velvet; while I,
poor soldier of fortune--I mean misfortune--am growing rusty; sword,
morion, breast-plate, body battered, and face scarred by time."

"Aren't we going to have something to eat and drink, captain?" growled
one of the men, with an ugly scowl.

"Ay, brave boys, and soon," cried the leader.

"Then, leave off preaching, captain, till we've got our legs under a
table."

"Ah, yes. Poor boys, they are footsore and weary with the walk across
your hilly moors. Excuse this emotion, young sir, and lead me to my old
brother's side."

There was something comic in the boy's look of perplexity and disgust,
as, after a few moments' hesitation, he began to lead the way toward the
half castle, half manor-house, which crowned the great limestone cliff.

"Surely," he thought, "my father cannot wish to see such a r