264 MASTER SKYLARK

gave a sudden, wild, resolute leap, and he touched the ©
carrier on the arm. “What will ye charge to carry two
as far as Stratford town?” he asked. His mouth was dry
as a dusty road, for the Dutchman had risen from his seat
and was coming toward the door.

“JT do na haul past Oxford,” said the man.

“To Oxford, then—how much? Be quick!” Nick
thrust his hand into his breast where he carried the bur-
gesses’ chain.

“Hightpence the day, for three days out—two shiHing
‘tis, and find yourself; it is an honest fare.”

The tapster’s knave came down the steps; the Dutchman
stood within the shadow of the door.

“Wilt carry us for this?” Nick cried, and thrust the
chain into the fellow’s hands.

He gasped and almost let it fall. “ Beshrew my heart!
Gadzooks!” said he, “art thou a prince in hiding, boy?
’"T would buy me, horses, wains, and all. Why, man alive,
tis but a nip o’ this!”

“Good, then,” said Nick, “’t is done—we ’ll go. Come,
Cicely, we ’re going home!”

Staring, the carrier followed him, weighing the chain in
his hairy hand. “Who art thou, boy?” he cried again.
“This matter hath a queer look.”

‘OT was honestly come by, sir,” cried Nick, no longer
able to conceal a quiver in his voice, “and my name is
Nicholas Attwood; I come from Stratford town.”

“Stratford-on-Avon? Why, art kin to Tanner Simon
Attwood there, Attwood of Old Town?”