“Faith is a practical affair.” Sir Jasper was cold and self-reliant again, as when he had fought with Murray in the wood. “When the road is at its worst, and sleet blows up from the east, and we ask only to creep into the nearest ditch, and die as cowards do--when all seems lost. Demaine--surely, if faith means anything at all, it means----” “You’re more devout than I,” snapped the Squire. “So is the Prince. I talked with him yesterday. He was wet to the skin, and had just given his last dram of brandy to one Hector MacLean who had cramp in the stomach--and I was hasty, may be, as I always am when I see royalty of any sort go beggared. ‘Your Highness,’ I said, ‘the Blood Royal should receive, not give, and you needed that last dram, by the look of your tired face.’ And what did he answer, think ye? ‘You’ve an odd conception of royalty, sir,’ said the Prince, his eyes hard and tender both. ‘The Blood Royal--my father’s and mine--gives till it can give no more. It lives, or it dies--but it goes giving to the last hour.’ He’s a bigger man than I am, Royd.” They jogged forward. And presently Sir Jasper broke the silence. “We are hurrying to dodge two armies, and we’re succeeding; would God they’d both find us, here on the road, and give us battle! That is our need. One battle against odds--and our men riding free and keen--and Murray would find his answer. I’d rather be quit of him that way than--than by striking at the bared breast of the man.” “I know, I know,” murmured the Squire, seeing how hard Sir Jasper took this battle in the wood. “Let Murray run his neck into the nearest halter; he’s not fair game for honest gentlemen. You were right. And yet--my faith runs low, I tell you, and you might have spared a better man. The mouth of him--I can see it now, like a rat’s, or a scolding woman’s--you’ve a tenderer conscience than I.” Into the middle of their trouble rode Maurice, tired of shepherding men who blamed him because he found no battle for them. “I was sorry that Rupert could not ride with us,” he said, challenging Sir Jasper’s glance. Sir Jasper winced, for his heir was dear to him beyond the knowledge of men who have never bred a son to carry on the high traditions of a race. “If pluck could have brought him, he’d have been with us, Maurice,” he said sharply.