“Ha! ha!” laughed Henry, “hast found him out, lads?”
He was turning to Ambrose when further shouts were heard. The King hallooed, and bade the boys do so, and in a few moments more they were surrounded by the rest of the hawking party, full of dismay at the king’s condition, and deprecating his anger for having lost him.
“Yea,” said Henry; “an it had not been for this good lad, ye would never have heard more of the majesty of England! Swallowed in a quagmire had made a new end for a king, and ye would have to brook the little Scot.”
The gentlemen who had come up were profuse in lamentations. A horse was brought up for the king’s use, and he prepared to mount, being in haste to get into dry clothes. He turned round, however, to the boys, and said, “I’ll not forget you, my lads. Keep that!” he added, as Ambrose, on his knee, would have given him back the whistle, “’tis a token that maybe will serve thee, for I shall know it again. And thou, my black-eyed lad—My purse, Howard!”
He handed the purse to Stephen—a velvet bag richly wrought with gold, and containing ten gold angels, besides smaller money—bidding them divide, like good brothers as he saw they were, and then galloped off with his train.
Twilight was coming on, but following in the direction of the riders, the boys were soon on the Islington road. The New Gate was shut by the time they reached it, and their explanation that they were belated after a nutting expedition would not have served them, had not Stephen produced the sum of twopence which softened the surliness of the guard.
It was already dark, and though curfew had not yet sounded, preparations were making for lighting the watch-fires in the open spaces and throwing chains across the streets, but the little door in the Dragon court was open, and Ambrose went in with his brother to deliver up his nuts to Dennet and claim her promise of sending a share to Aldonza.
They found their uncle in his sober array sitting by Master Headley, who was rating Edmund and Giles for having lost sight of them, the latter excusing himself by grumbling out that he could not be marking all Stephen’s brawls with George Bates.
When the two wanderers appeared, relief took the form of anger, and there were sharp demands why they had loitered. Their story was listened to with many exclamations: Dennet jumped for joy, her grandmother advised that the angels should be consigned to her own safe keeping, and when Master Headley heard of Henry’s scruples about the indentures, he declared that it was a rare wise king who knew that an honest craft was better than court favour.