Yet even Michael grew snappish when he saw the steeds they had to ride. It was only when Kit laughed consumedly at sight of them that he recovered his good humour. "After all, sir," suggested Boniface, "it proves the loyalty of the country hereabouts. They couldn’t get decent horseflesh, for love or money. Our folk would only sell them stuff ready for the knacker’s yard." "That has a pleasant sound for us, with all between this and York to travel." "Take two o’ my beasts, gentles, if there’s haste. You’re cropped enough, and in quiet clothes enough, to ride good horses—always granting their colour doesn’t happen to be white. As for these two o’ mine, one is a roan, t’other a darkish bay." Michael was arrested by the host’s thoroughness and zeal, his disregard of his own safety. "And you, when you unlock the door on these rogues?" "I shall fare as I shall fare, and not grumble either way. For your part, get away on the King’s business, and God guide him safe, say I." "But at least there’s our reckoning to pay." "Not a stiver. Nay, I’ll not hear of it. Am I so poor a King’s man that I grudge a cut from the joint and a bottle to the Riding Metcalfs?" Michael warmed afresh to the man’s loyalty. "Our thanks, host. As for the three in yonder, they’ll not trouble you. I told them the door would be unlocked in an hour’s time, explained that my folk were in the neighbourhood, and warned them to save their skins as best they could. You’ll laugh till there are no more tears to shed when you see two of them in their bravery. Till I die that picture will return—their two sad faces set on top of our gay finery." With a nod and a cheery call to his horse, he took the road again; and Kit and he spurred fast to recover the lost ground until they reached a steep and winding hill. For their cattle’s sake they were compelled to take a breather at the top, and Kit looked over the rolling wolds with a heart on fire for Rupert and the errand. Somewhere yonder, under the blue, misty haze, lay York, the city old to courage and the hazard. New hazards were in the making; it behoved Michael and himself to give no spoiled page to York’s long story. "What a lad for dreams it is!" said Michael, in his gentlest voice. Kit turned, and the sight of Michael habited in sober gear, with a steeple hat to crown the picture, broke down his dreams. It is good that comedy and the high resolve are friends who seldom ride apart. "The two we changed gear with, Michael—you would not laugh at them if you could see yourself." "I have a good mirror, Kit, in you." So they eyed each other for a while, and took their fill of merriment. Then they went forward. What the end of the venture was to be, they hazarded no guess; but at least they had papers and a garb that would pass them safely through the lines at York.