In any case, when Hugh rose to his feet he found Frank very subdued. “’Twas my father sent me hither,” he began, with a little trace of sullenness. “He said if you really had it in mind to fight, you were best slip out of the town early. The matter has got abroad, and the provost may send to apprehend you just for accepting the challenge.” “Then we’ll disappoint the provost,” said Strangwayes. “I’ve sent to the stable already to have our horses brought round. Clap into your boots, Hugh, but bring your shoes along. You can’t fight with a ton of leather about your heels.” “Is there aught I can lend you, Hugh?” asked Frank, studying his friend with interested eyes. “I’m well enough,” Hugh answered cheerfully. “Dick is going to let me use his rapier.” “Can’t I come out to the field with you?” Frank begged. “Oh, I’ll not speak a word, Dick, and I’ll do whatever you may tell me.” “If a second man came it would have to be Allestree,” answered Strangwayes. “Better go back to quarters now, Frank. Tell Sir William we thank him for his warning, and I have taken a day’s leave of absence.” But as Strangwayes was edging him toward the door Frank dodged by him and ran back to Hugh. “Good luck to you,” he said, putting his arms round Hugh and kissing him. “And—and God keep you.” Then he clattered out and down the stairs, and Hugh, for a moment, neither looked at Dick nor spoke. He was drawing on his cloak, still with his back toward Strangwayes, who stood by the window, when his friend struck in gayly: “In good time, here are the horses. Come along, now.” Thus Hugh was hurried out at the door, with time only for a single backward glance at the little crowded chamber, and barely an instant in which to ask himself, would he ever look upon that room again? At the foot of the first flight of stairs they met Turner, recognizable by his slim figure, though the corridor was too dark for them to distinguish his face. “Going out to the field, eh, Gwyeth?” he asked, thrusting out his hand. “Well, success to you, lad, good success.” He shook hands a second time with a strong pressure that lingered on Hugh’s fingers till after they were mounted and off. Under foot the mud and slush were heavy, but the horses kept up a tolerable pace, which Hugh, unknown to himself, was setting for them. A feverish desire to be moving quickly was upon him, and with it a dread of being silent. He laughed and chatted indifferently of whatever caught his eye upon the western road till he soon had Strangwayes talking back glibly. “We’ll dine at an alehouse called the ‘Sceptre,’” Dick rattled on. “I know it well of old. I used to have a score as long as my arm chalked on the door. There’s a very pretty bowling green behind the house. Which explains my long score. When the spring comes I must have you out thither and teach you to bowl. ’Tis good for the muscles of the arm, let alone the exhilaration of the spirits.”