“Most kind of you, Dick; though nothing more than I expected. Soon as I heard of your being at the High Meadow, I made up my mind to join you there, even if I went alone as a common deserter. Never was man more disgusted with a cause than I with Cavalierism. It stinks of the beerhouse and bagnio; here in Monmouth spiced with Papistry—no improvement to its nasty savour. But the place will smell sweeter now. I’ll make it. Massey has told me I’m to have command.”
“You are the man for it,” said the knight approvingly. “And I am glad he has given it to you. Nothing more than you’re entitled to, after what you’ve done.”
“Ah! ’tis you who did everything—planned everything. What clever strategy your thinking of such a ruse!”
“Not half so clever as your carrying it out.”
“Well, Dick, between us we did the trick neatly, didn’t we?”
“Nothing could have been better. But how near it came to miscarrying! When they flung that Cornet in your teeth I almost gave it up.”
“I confess to some misgiving myself then. It looked awkward for a while.”
“That indeed. And how you got out of it! Your tale of his cowardice, and threat to make short work with him, were so well affected I could scarce keep from bursting into laughter. But what a simpleton that fellow who had command of the bridge guard! Was he one of those we cut down, think you?”
“I fancy he was, and fear it. Among my late comrades there were many I liked less than he.”
“And the Cornet, to whom you gave credit for making such good use of his heels. Has he escaped?”