"But the boat is ourn by ancient rights," objected a bearded fisherman, whose ears were pierced by a pair of gold earrings, probably part of the spoil from some castaway.
"Let them have the craft by all means," quoth Gripwell. "I' faith, we are right glad to see the last of her."
"Where were ye making for?" asked the horseman.
"Firstly to the shores of England, which, by St. George, we have made far too forcibly to my mind. Secondly we belong to the Castle of Warblington. Yonder stands Geoffrey Lysle, son of the Lord of Warblington."
"Thou hast gone wide of the mark, good shipmaster," replied the horseman with a merry laugh. "Now ye must needs foot it for nearly a score of leagues ere ye reach Warblington. Ye are now at Birling Gap, midway on the shore of Sussex. Hast money? Nay? Then here is a groat apiece. Follow yon track and ye'll soon strike the great highway betwixt Dover and Southampton. The rest of the way, though it be long, is not difficult to find."
"One moment, fair sir," quoth Geoffrey. "To whom do we owe this right courteous treatment?"
"It matters not," was the reply, as the horseman prepared to take his departure. "But stay; if so be that ye have time to remember me in your prayers, men call me Wild Dick o' Birling."
CHAPTER XVII
OF THE COMPANY AT THE SIGN OF THE BUCKLE
Glad to have come out of their difficulties so lightly, Arnold Gripwell and the three lads set out along the path indicated by the kindly Dick o' Birling.