It was part of the man’s downrightness, his faith that Providence was kind to every stark adventure, that he was able to make the forlorn hope seem a deed already done. "_I_ claim the venture, sir," said Michael, with his unalterable smoothness and the air of one who jests. "Kit, here, has had his share already." "Well, well, ’twill keep you out of mischief for a while. Get you from saddle, Michael. Steal into York as privily as may be, and ask my Lord Newcastle what service six-score Metcalfs can do him in the open. We shall be waiting for you, here or hereabouts, when you return." Michael, as he trudged along the road, overtook a tall fellow who walked beside a donkey-cart piled high with vegetables. "I’ll buy that donkey, friend," he said, "and all your cart holds, and the clothes you stand up in." "For how much?" asked the countryman, stolidly indifferent to all except the call of money. Michael took a guinea from his pocket, and watched cupidity brighten in the rascal’s eyes as another coin was added. Then they went aside into a little wood beside the road, exchanged clothes there, and the bargain was complete. "Clothes make a difference," chuckled the countryman. "Here’s thee, looking as gaumless a lad as ever brought produce into camp; and here’s me, the gentleman fro’ my head to my riding-boots. All I need is to steal a horse; then I shall be the gentleman quite. I knew the feel o’ stirrups once, before I drank away a snug little farm and had to take to the road." Something in the man’s voice, something in his sturdy height, the devil-may-care acceptance of life as it was, roused Michael’s interest. "You sell your wares to the Roundhead army?" he asked sharply. "Ay, but that doesn’t say I hold wi’ them. I’ve my living to earn, and sell in any market." "Have a care, man. You’re for the King, I fancy, apart from trade. And how do you know that I’ll not take you by the ear and lead you into camp for a traitor to the Commonwealth?" The rogue looked up and down the road. "There’s none to come in between us," he laughed. "I care never a stiver on which side you be. I’m for the King, and always was; and, if you say nay, we can fight it out here with our fists. We’re much of a height and girth." This was the sort of wayfaring that tickled Michael’s humour. "My lad," he said, between one break of laughter and the next, "it would be a pity for two King’s men to fight. Go back a mile along the road to Ripley, and find a company of rascals as big as you and me. When they ask your errand, say ’A Mecca for the King,’ then tell them that I’ve sent you with the news that all speeds well." "This is fair dealing?" said the countryman, after a puzzled silence. "Take it or leave it. We Metcalfs never trust by halves." The other clapped his hand suddenly into Michael’s. "That’s a bargain," he said. "I’d liefer join your company than sell cabbages to these durned Cropheads."