"Alone!" exclaimed the other. "Why, you have a queer notion of solitude, having two companions with you." "One may have companions that are not comrades," answered Lakyn; "and, to say sooth, these are no friends of mine." "Why, how now!" cried the black-browed man, riding up at this moment, about fifty yards in advance of his fellow-traveller; "why, how now, master serving-man, you have soon come to an end of your race. We shall be at the other side of the common first, and make you pay your losings." "Ride on, then," said Lakyn, in a jeering tone. "With two such jades as yours I don't fear you. I'll give you a start half-way to the other side, and beat you, notwithstanding." The man turned a grim look of a somewhat menacing character upon him, and replied, "We will make you pay, if you lose, depend upon it." "No fear, no fear," answered Lakyn; "ride on, and spare your horses' wind till I come up with you. I'll make you use whip and spur before I have done with you." As he spoke, the other stranger joined them; but he took no part in the conversation, only saying to his companion, "Come on, Slingsby, come on!" and forward they rode together. "Why, you will lose your stoup of wine," said the jolly traveller under the trees, addressing Lakyn, while the others proceeded on their way. "Small payment for good deliverance," rejoined the serving-man. "I love not the looks of those two gentlemen; and, as I am going on an errand from good Sir Harry West, my master, to his highness the king, I must risk nothing till it is accomplished. "What, Sir Harry West, of Bourne?" cried a grave-looking gentleman in ruff. "If you be one of his people, right gladly will we have you in our company; for, in the question of the meadow at Merton, he decided in favour of Oakham, like a worthy good gentleman, as he is." "Those are his arms, I think," said Matthew Lakyn, pointing with pride to the badge upon his sleeve. "To be sure! to be sure!" replied the grave personage, putting a pair of large horn spectacles upon the bridge of his nose. "Polly, my dear, look, those are Sir Harry West's arms. Don't you remember how he said to me, 'Thou art a very sedate and reverend person, Master Smallit, and have given your evidence in a devout and proper manner?'"