"A journey into the Tyrol."
"For what purpose?"
"I cannot tell you. You must trust me if you come."
He looked at me doubtfully.
"Your life will be risked," I urged; "I can gratify you so far."
He closed the Shakespeare with a bang.
"When do we start?"
"As soon as ever we are prepared. To-morrow."
"'Twere a pity to waste a day."
I assured him that so far from wasting it, we should have much ado to get off even the next morning. For there were a couple of stout horses to be purchased, besides numberless other arrangements to be made. The horses we bought of a dealer in the Rapenburg, and then, enlisting the fencing-master to aid us, we sought the shop of an armourer in the Hout-Straat. From him we bought a long sword and a brace of pistols each, whereupon Larke declared that we were equipped cap-à-pie, and loudly protested against further hindrance. I insisted, however, in adding a pair of long cloaks of a heavier cloth than any we possessed, and divers other warm garments. For we were now in the last days of September, and I knew that winter comes apace in upland countries like the Tyrol. Then there were maps to be procured, and a route to be pricked out, so that it was late in the evening before we had completed our preparations.