"My father fought for his gracious Majesty, Charles I.," says he, quickly, "and took a deep wound at Marston Moor. There was never a braver man than Squire Masters of Rockham."
"I'll warrant his son is his spit," said I.
He bowed, as if he were at court. "Your servant, sir," says he, smiling well-pleased, and eyed me. "You have seen much service, sir?" he asked.
"Why, as much as will serve, Mr Masters," said I.
He looked at me shyly. "You have my name now," said he, and left his question in the air.
"You may call me Ryder," said I.
"You have had your company, sir?" he went on in a hesitating voice.
"Not always as good company as this," I replied laughing.
"I knew it," said he, eagerly. "You are Captain Ryder?"
"There have been those that have put that style on me," I answered, amused at his persistence.