But Hugh had had enough of borrowing on the chance of Colonel Gwyeth’s making repayment, and he refused the loan; if the colonel chose to provide for him, he reasoned to himself, he need wear his rags but few hours longer; and if the colonel rebuffed him again he would liefer have rags than whole clothes and a debt to so short-pursed a man as a corporal of carabineers. Ridydale fairly let slip his self-control at the boy’s obstinate refusal. “If ’twere not for your red hair and your trick of setting your lips together, I’d doubt if you were a Gwyeth,” he broke out at last, and marched away to the stables in some temper. Whereat Hugh felt angry, then grew thoughtful, and, reflecting that the man, for all his arbitrary ways, had treated him with real kindness, wondered if he might not have somewhat tempered his refusal. So, when he next saw Ridydale, at supper, he tried to talk him into good humor by questioning him of his father, which much mollified the corporal, and then of the troop, and finally of the progress of the war. It seemed Colonel Gwyeth’s force had shared with Sir William Pleydall’s troop some brisk skirmishing about Worcester; Hugh wondered if Frank had had the good fortune to be present, and sought to get news of the Pleydalls from Ridydale, who, when he learned Hugh had acquaintance with such gentlemen, looked a trifle more favorably upon him. The boy was sorely tempted to tell him the story of Dick Strangwayes and the skirmish at the “Golden Ram,” but, after all, that was a kind of self-glorification that would become Bob Saxon better than Hugh Gwyeth. So he held his peace, and was thankful that he had got Ridydale into a mood where, if he still esteemed him rather a weak-spirited fellow, he did not utterly despise him. But early as next morning it was Hugh’s ill luck to destroy whatever good impression he had made. Having risen late, he had fetched a bucket of water up to the chamber, and, stripped to the waist, was bathing himself with much splashing, when Ridydale unexpectedly came in. “The colonel has granted to speak with me ere noon,” the corporal announced his business at once, “so you shall speedily—” There he paused, looking sharply at Hugh, who stood sidewise toward him, then strode over to the boy. “How got you those fresh scars on your back?” he demanded. “No matter,” answered Hugh, facing hastily toward the speaker. Ridydale took him unceremoniously by the shoulders, and turned him round. “’Twas done with a whip!” he burst out. “What means this? Have you been flogged?” “Yes,” Hugh replied. “Now have the goodness to take your hands off me.” “Was it done here at the stables?” Ridydale persisted. “Answer me, master.” “Do you look for me to turn tale-bearer?” Hugh retorted. “I look to cut some combs for this,” Ridydale stormed. “Though you lack in spirit you bear your father’s name, and for that they that misuse you shall answer—” “I pray you, let it all go,” Hugh interrupted. “I have suffered no harm—”