the bar, with
the private parlour of the host, and two or three chambers in the second
story. The whirlicote jolted and rattled into the yard. Sibyll and
her father were assisted out of the vehicle, and, after a few words
interchanged with the host, conducted by Master Porpustone himself up
the spacious stairs into a chamber, well furnished and fresh littered,
with repeated assurances of safety, provided they maintained silence,
and attempted no escape.

"Ye are in time," said Ned Porpustone to the captain. "Lord Hastings
made proclamation at daybreak that he gave the rebels two hours to
disperse."

"Pest! I like not those proclamations. And the fellows stood their
ground?"

"No; for Sir Geoffrey, like a wise soldier, mended the ground by
retreating a mile to the left, and placing the wood between the Yorkists
and himself. Hastings, by this, must have remarshalled his men. But to
pass the wood is slow work, and Sir Geoffrey's crossbows are no doubt
doing damage in the covert. Come in, while your fellows snatch a morsel
without; five minutes are not thrown away on filling their bellies."

"Thanks, Ned, thou art a good fellow; and if all else fail, why, Sir
John's ransom shall pay the reckoning. Any news of bold Robin?"

"Ay, he has 'scaped with a whole skin, and gone back to the North,"
answered the host, leading the way to his parlour, where a flask of
strong wine and some cold meat awaited his guest. "If Sir Geoffrey Gates
can beat off the York troopers, tell him, from me, not to venture to
London, but to fall back into the marshes. He will be welcome there, I
foreguess; for every northman is either for Warwick or for Lancaster,
and the two must unite now, I trow."

"But Warwick is flown!" quoth the captain.

"Tush! he has only flown as the falcon flies when he has a heron to
fight with,--wheeling and soaring. Woe to the heron when the falcon
swoops! But you drink not!"

"No; I must keep the head cool to-day; for Hastings is a perilous
captain. Thy fist, friend! If I fall, I leave you Sir John and his girl
to wipe off old scores; if we beat off the Yorkists I vow to Our Lady of
Walsingham an image of wax of the weight of myself." The marauder then
started up, and strode to his men, who were snatching a hasty meal on
the space before the hostel. He paused a moment or so, while his host
whispered,--

"Hastings was here before daybreak: but his men only got the sour beer;
yours fight upon huffcap."

"Up, me