De Claverlok's animal was exceptionally deep-breasted and powerful, and a near match for Sir Richard's in speed. For quite a distance they clipped it neck and neck along the road. About midway between them and the goal against which they were flinging there rode a solitary horseman. He was garbed in the habit of a monk, with the cowl drawn well down over his head. The mad volleying of hoofs caused the rider to uncover, as the racers drew near, and shoot a glance of wonderment in their direction. Even with the fleeting view thus afforded him, Sir Richard remarked that the rugged, lean, and livid-scarred countenance appeared singularly incongruous within the brown frame of a monk's hood. It was like anything but that of a peace-loving ascetic. So intent was the young knight upon winning his race, however, that he failed to notice the unusually sharp angles where the robe fell away from the horseman's knees and elbows. Neither was he sufficiently acute to observe that his rapidly forging to the fore of de Claverlok was coincident with the swift uplifting of the traveler's cowl.
He swept on down to the door of the Stag and Hounds, and reining his stallion to its haunches beneath the creaking sign that hung above it, he flung himself from off his saddle in time to see the monk look rather hastily back toward the tavern, mark the stations of the cross in the air with exaggerated gestures above de Claverlok's bowed head, and disappear at a round gallop over the hill.
The grizzled knight then rode leisurely down to where Sir Richard stood waiting for him, his rugged face beaming with smiles.
"Your barb's hoofs spurned the earth too swiftly for us to bear him company," said he, dismounting beside the young knight, "so I yielded to you the palm of speed, and added to the total of my score by tossing yon pious churchman a noble. Mayhap I may be the gainer through achieving absolution from divers of my recent sins, ... eh? What, ho there, MacWhuddy!" he shouted at the inn-keeper, who was smiling, rubbing his pudgy hands together, and bowing within the door. "Send thy groom, MacWhuddy, and have me these barbs fed and curried whilst we have somewhat of your best to eat and drink. By my soul, MacWhuddy, but thou'rt growing of a size," he went on in a robustious way after the groom had come forward to relieve them of their horses. "Bigger and fatter than ever, ... eh? 'Tis a right healthful business, this keeping of an inn, ... eh? Nothing but eat and drink, and drink and eat from day's end to day's end, and trade jokes from the benchside with the toiling traveler that gorges thy till. When I get me done with this fighting, I'll have me a tavern with a warm corner, a soft seat, and a full flagon ever at hand, ... eh! Sir Dick?"
"I could never picture you, my pugnacious friend, without your ready sword and buckler," laughed the young knight. "But make haste, MacWhuddy," he added, turning toward the inn-keeper. "We would quickly bait ourselves and be away upon our travels. Hold! one moment, my good fellow. Cannot you tell me whether this road leads to Castle Yewe? and how many leagues——"
"Pooh—pooh!" interrupted de Claverlok loudly. "And what doth MacWhuddy know, pray, ... eh? Why, by my faith, scarce his own name, Sir Dick! Saint Dunstan hear me, an he keeps him not his scores upon a notched stick, I'll eat him for a flitch of bacon. Get you gone, MacWhuddy," he roared, when the puzzled inn-keeper made as if to protest. "Bring in the meat, MacWhuddy, and not a word out of your blessed pate, or I'll roll you like one of your own wine butts through yon door, MacWhuddy, ... eh!"
"I wish that you would have expended your wasted energies in bidding the fellow make haste," said Sir Richard, who was much mystified by his companion's sudden display of irritability.
"Haste? He'll make haste, will MacWhuddy—he's built for 't, ... eh?" observed de Claverlok with a dry laugh. "But where's the blessed groom, ... eh? I would have him to—ah! here he comes now. Hey, you, fellow;" he called to the hostler, who was just about to set his foot inside the door, "bring us a book you'll find in the left saddle pouch upon the back of the black horse. Why stand you there twirling your cap and mouthing like a drunken tarry-Jack, ... eh? Fetch us the book, I say!"
"I canna un'erstan' thee, worshipful marster," mumbled the thoroughly frightened menial. "What are a bo-o-ke, good sir? Be it some'at to eat, or some'at to drink—or some'at f'r th' hoorses, mayhap?"
"Well, by Saint Dunstan! Know you not what a book is, ... eh?" roared the grizzled knight, springing up from his seat beside a table and starting for the dumfounded groom. "I'll have the flat of my sword at your hinder quarters for a doddering void-pate!" whereupon, with a great show of anger, he made through the door in a furious pursuit of the innocent offender. "A book, I tell you—" Sir Richard could hear de Claverlok having it out with the groom in the yard; "a handful of paper with a board stuck fast upon each end—do you hear me, ... eh?"