A DASH FOR FREEDOM 85

pricked up their ears and arched their necks and pranced
along the crowded streets, Nick, stared at by all the good
townsfolk, could not help feeling a thrill of pride that he
was one of the great company of players, and sat up very
straight and held his head up haughtily as Master Carew
did, and bore himself with as lordly an air as he knew how.

But when morning came, and he danced blithely back
from washing himself at the horse-trough, all ready to
start for home, he found the little roan cross-bridled as
before between the master-player’s gray and the bandy-
legged fellow’s sorrel mare.

“What, there! cast him loose,” said he to the horse-boy
who held the three. “Iam not going on with the players
—I’m to go back to Stratford.”

“Then ye go afoot,” coolly rejoined the other, grinning,
“for the hoss goeth on wi’ the rest.”

“What is this, Master Carew?” cried Nick, indignantly,
bursting into the tap-room, where the players were at ale.
“They will na let me have the horse, sir. Am I to walk
the whole way back to Stratford town?”

“To Stratford?” asked Master Carew, staring with an
expression of most innocent surprise, as he set his ale-can
down and turned around. “Why, thou art not going to
Stratford.”

“Not going to Stratford!” gasped Nick, catching at the
table with a sinking heart. “Why, sir, ye promised that
I should to-day.”

“Nay, now, that I did not, Nicholas. I promised thee