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And just as he was so thinking, a voice cried upon his name from the
causeway side, and, looking over his shoulder, he saw the lad's face
peering from a clump of reeds.
"Are ye there?" he said, reining in. "Ye lay so close among the reeds
that I had passed you by. I saw your horse bemired, and put him from his
agony; which, by my sooth! an ye had been a more merciful rider, ye had
done yourself. But come forth out of your hiding. Here be none to
trouble you."
"Nay, good boy, I have no arms, nor skill to use them if I had," replied
the other, stepping forth upon the pathway.
"
Why call me 'boy'?" cried Dick. "Y' are not, I trow, the elder of us
twain."
"Good Master Shelton," said the other, "prithee forgive me. I have none
the least intention to offend. Rather I would in every way beseech your
gentleness and favour, for I am now worse bested than ever, having lost
my way, my cloak, and my poor horse. To have a riding-rod and spurs, and
never a horse to sit upon! And before all," he added, looking ruefully
upon his clothes--"before all, to be so sorrily besmirched!"
"Tut!" cried Dick. "Would ye mind a ducking? Blood of wound or dust of
travel--that's a man's adornment."
"Nay, then, I like him better plain," observed the lad. "But, prithee,
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