wretch strung up, I swore to fall behind at the earliest
opportunity, and to-night's affair makes this imperative."

"And what may your plans be?" asked Crispin.

"War is my trade, not a diversion, as it is with Wilmot and
Buckingham and the other pretty gentlemen of our train. And
since the King's army is like to yield me no profit, faith,
I'll turn me to the Parliament's. If I get out of Penrith with
my life, I'll shave my beard and cut my hair to a comely and
godly length; don a cuckoldy steeple hat and a black coat, and
carry my sword to Cromwell with a line of text."

Sir Crispin fell to pondering. Noting this, and imagining that
he guessed aright the reason:

"I take it, Cris," he put in, keenly glancing at the other,
"that you are much of my mind?"

"Maybe I am," replied Crispin carelessly.

"Why, then," cried Hogan, "need we part company?"

There was a sudden eagerness in his tone, born of the
admiration in which this rough soldier of fortune held one whom
he accounted his better in that same harsh trade. But Galliard
answered coldly:

"You forget, Harry."