A STRANGE RIDE 73

“A pretty fellow!” said Carew, with a shrug. “He'll
be hard put to dodge the hangman yet; but he’s a right
good fellow in his way, and he has served me—he has
served me.”

The first loud burst of talk had ceased, and all rode
silently along. The air was chill, and Nick was grateful
for the cloak that Carew threw around him. There was
no sound but the beat of many hoofs in the dust-padded
road, and now and then the crowing of a cock somewhere
within the cloaking fog. The stars were gone, and the
sky was lighting up; and all at once, as they rode, the
clouds ahead, low down and to the right, broke raggedly
away and let a red sun-gleam shoot through across the
mist, bathing the riders in dazzling rosy light.

“Why, Master Carew,” cried Nick, no little startled,
“ there comes the sun, almost ahead! We’re riding east-
ward, sir. We ’ve missed the road!”

“Oh, no, we ’ve not,” said Carew; “ nothing of the sort.”
His tone was so peremptory and sharp that Nick said
nothing more, but rode along, vaguely wishing that he
was already clattering down Stratford High street.

The clouds scattered as the sun came up, and the morn-
ing haze drifted away into cool dales, and floated off upon
the breeze. And as the world woke up the players wa-
kened too, and rode gaily along, laughing, singing, and
chattering together, until Nick thought he had never in
all his life before seen such a jolly fellowship. His heart
was blithe as he reined his curveting palfrey by the mas-
ter-player’s side, and watched the sunlight dance and spar-