“Nay, thou knowest not what thou hast lost, brother Andrew, by not being with us,” cried the other.
“Father hath seized——” shouted Walter.
“The Earl hath taken possession of——” interrupted James.
“Tut, hold thy gabbling tongue, James, and let me tell,” responded Walter.
“Nay, but I will tell it,” cried James lustily.
“By the holy Rood, but I will not be interrupted,” screamed out Walter.
“By the Bishop’s mass, then, but I will tell out mine own tale in spite of thee,” bellowed James; “the Earl hath seized, I say——”
“Confound thee, then!” roared out Walter in a frenzy, and at the same time bestowing a hearty thwack with the shaft of his spear across his brother’s shoulders—“confound thine impudence, take that for thine insolence.”
The no less irascible James was by no means slow in returning the compliment, and they began to beat one another about the head with great goodwill; nay, it is probable that their wrath might have even induced them to resort to the points of their weapons, had they been equal to the management of their fiery steeds; but the spirited animals became restive in the bicker, and plunging two or three times, the youths, more attentive to mauling each other than to their horsemanship, lost their seats, and in one and the same instant both were laid prostrate on the plain. Some of the followers of the hunting party caught their palfreys, and raised the enraged boys, who would have renewed their fight on foot had they not been held back.
“Oh, ye silly fools,” said Sir Andrew, smiling coolly and contemptuously upon them; “as the old cock croweth, so, forsooth, the chicks must needs ape his song. Have done with your absurd and impotent wrath.” And leaving them in the hands of the attendants, he rode slowly forward with Hepborne to meet his father.