"What, indeed?" echoed the Colonel, temporising till he should
evolve an answer. "Yes, that's a very relevant question. Well, he
was a good deal fairer than Sir R---- R----, but about the same age,
only with brown eyes, and he was a very nice little boy--young
fellow, I mean."

"What was his name?"

"His name? Oh, well--" and here the Colonel, feeling with some taste
that "Smith," or "Jones," or "Robinson" was out of place in a forest
whose mediæval character was palpable, and being quite unable at
such short notice to recall any other English names, gained time by
the following ingenious detail: "Oh, well, he lost his good name by
being captured. And then--and then to his aid came the stalwart Sir
R----, with his sword drawn, and his--er--"

"Revoller," suggested the listener.

"Yes, his revolver fixed to his chain-mail--"

In this strain the Colonel proceeded, wondering whether such
abominable nonsense was interesting the child, whose gaze had now
begun to reach out to sea. In reality Rupert was thrilled, and did
not like to disturb the flow of a story so affecting. But the
strength of his feelings was too much. He was obliged to suggest an
amendment.

"Are you sure I didn't go upon a horse?" he asked.

"Why, of course, the unknown knight in question did, and the sheath