"Where dwellest thou, young knave?" inquired the man with the largest steel-cap. "Over there," said Robert; and directly he had said it he knew he ought to have said "Yonder!" "Ha--sayest so?" rejoined the longest boots. "Come hither, boy. This is matter for our leader." And to the leader Robert was dragged forthwith--by the reluctant ear. [Illustration: Robert was dragged forthwith--by the reluctant ear] The leader was the most glorious creature Robert had ever seen. He was exactly like the pictures Robert had so often admired in the historical romances. He had armor, and a helmet, and a horse, and a crest, and feathers, and a shield and a lance and a sword. His armor and his weapons were all, I am almost sure, of quite different periods. The shield was thirteenth century, while the sword was of the pattern used in the Peninsular War. The cuirass was of the time of Charles I., and the helmet dated from the Second Crusade. The arms on the shield were very grand--three red running lions on a blue ground. The tents were of the latest brand approved of by our modern War Office, and the whole appearance of camp, army, and leader might have been a shock to some. But Robert was dumb with admiration, and it all seemed to him perfectly correct, because he knew no more of heraldry or archaeology than the gifted artists who usually drew the pictures for the historical romances. The scene was indeed "exactly like a picture." He admired it all so much that he felt braver than ever. "Come hither, lad," said the glorious leader, when the men in Cromwellian steel-caps had said a few low eager words. And he took off his helmet, because he could not see properly with it on. He had a kind face, and long fair hair. "Have no fear; thou shalt take no scathe," he said. Robert was glad of that. He wondered what "scathe" was, and if it was nastier than the medicine which he had to take sometimes. "Unfold thy tale without alarm," said the leader kindly. "Whence comest thou, and what is thine intent?" "My what?" said Robert. "What seekest thou to accomplish? What is thine errand, that thou wanderest here alone among these rough men-at-arms? Poor child, thy mother's heart aches for thee e'en now, I'll warrant me." "I don't think so," said Robert; "you see, she doesn't know I'm out." [Illustration: He wiped away a manly tear] The leader wiped away a manly tear, exactly as a leader in a historical romance would have done, and said-- "Fear not to speak the truth, my child; thou hast nought to fear from Wulfric de Talbot."