"Nay, nay, 'tis not for that, they will laugh," rejoined the other, "and perhaps it may jump with my humour to go back, too. If you have committed a folly in a frolic to-night, I have committed one in anger. Come with me, therefore, and, as we go, give me some name by which to call you when we arrive, that I may not have to throw you into my uncle's hall as a keeper with a dead deer; and, moreover, before we go, give me your word that we have no frolics here, for I would not, for much, that any one I brought, should move the old knight's heart with aught but pleasure." "There is my hand, good youth," replied the stranger, following, as the other turned his horse; "and I never break my word, whatever men say of me, though they tell strange tales. As for my name, people call me Hal of Hadnock; it will do as well as another." "For the nonce," added his companion, understanding well that it was assumed; "but it matters not. Let us ride on, and the gate shall soon be opened to you; for I do think they will be glad to see me back again, though I may not perchance stay long. 'The porter rose anon certaine As soon as he heard John call.'" "You seem learned for a countryman," said the traveller, riding on by his side; "but, perchance, I am speaking to a clerk?" "Good faith, no," replied the first wayfarer; "more soldier than clerk, Hal of Hadnock; as old Robert of Langland says, 'I cannot perfectly my Paternoster, as the priest it singeth, but I can rhyme of Robin Hode and Randof Earl of Chester.' I have cheered my boyhood with many a song and my youth with many a ballad. When lying in the field upon the marches of Wales, I have wiled away many a cold night with the-- 'Quens Mountfort, sa dure mort,' or, 'Richard of Alemaigne, while he was king,' and then in the cold blasts of March, I ever found comfort in-- 'Summer is icumen in, Lhude sing cuccu, Groweth sede and bloweth mode, And springeth the wode nu.'" "And good reason, too," said Hal of Hadnock; "I do the same, i'faith; and when wintry winds are blowing, I think ever, that a warmer day may come and all be bright again. Were it not for that, indeed, I might well be cold-hearted." "Fie, never flinch!" cried his gay companion; "there is but one thing on earth should make a bold man coldhearted." "And what may that be?" asked the other; "to lose his dinner?" "No, good life!" exclaimed the first,--"to lose his lady's love." "Ay, is it there the saddle galls?" said Hal of Hadnock. "Faith, not a whit," answered his fellow-traveller; "if it did, I should leave off singing. You are wrong in your guess, Master Hal. I may lose my lady, but not my lady's love, or I am much mistaken; and while that stays with me I will both sing and hope."