And they were here together. And nothing mattered, somehow, as the way of men is when their souls have taken the open, friendly road. They rode hard in pursuit of the Prince’s army, nursing their horses’ strength as far as eagerness would let them; and, at long last, they overtook their friends on the windy summit of Shap Fell, where the Stuart army was bivouacked for the night. Sir Jasper asked audience of the Prince, and found him sitting in his tent, eating a stew of sheep’s kidneys--the one luxury royalty could command at the moment. And the Prince rose, forgetting his quality, in frank welcome of this man who had shared the evil Derby days with him. “I thought you dead, sir; and I’m very glad to see you--alive, but thinner than you were.” No detail ever escaped the Prince’s eye, when he was concerned about the welfare of his friends; and the solicitude, the affection of this greeting atoned for many hardships. “I was wounded, your Highness, or should have been with you long since.” “So much I knew. No other hindrance would have kept you,” said the Prince, with flattering trust. “I bring a volunteer with me.” “He must be staunch indeed! A volunteer to join us in these days of havoc? Has he been jilted by one of your Lancashire witches, that he’s eager to trudge through this evil weather?” “No. He has just won through a siege on your behalf--the siege of my own house--and could not rest till he had seen you.” The Prince had been in a black mood of despair not long ago. He was alone in his tent, with none to need him for the moment, none to know if he were sick at heart. Like all men, great or small, he was at once the victim and the captain of the temperament given him at birth; and none but the Stuarts knew how dearly they purchased--through lonely hours of misery, self-doubt, denial of all hope--the charm, the gay, unyielding courage that touched the dullest wayfarers with some fine hint of betterment. Sir Jasper’s coming had cleared the Prince’s outlook. In the man’s simplicity, in the obvious love he held for this unknown volunteer, the Stuart read a request unspoke. “Present him,” he said, with the smile that had tempted men and women alike to follow him for love. “He’ll forgive me if I finish this stew of kidneys? For I own I’m devilish hungry.” Through the toilsome ride from Windyhough to Shap, Rupert had talked of the Prince, and only of the Prince; and Sir Jasper went now to find his heir, proud--as simple men are--of the transparent diplomacy that had secured Rupert his heart’s desire so promptly. He did not find him at once among the busy camp; and when they were admitted to the royal tent, his Highness had finished his meal, and was smoking the disreputable pipe that had been his friend throughout this weary, meaningless retreat. “My son, your Highness,” said Sir Jasper.