their bellies."

"Thanks, Ned, thou art a good fellow; and if all else fail, why, Sir
John's ransom shall pay the reckoning. Any news of bold Robin?"

"Ay, he has 'scaped with a whole skin, and gone back to the North,"
answered the host, leading the way to his parlour, where a flask of
strong wine and some cold meat awaited his guest. "If Sir Geoffrey
Gates can beat off the York troopers, tell him, from me, not to
venture to London, but to fall back into the marshes. He will be
welcome there, I foreguess; for every northman is either for Warwick
or for Lancaster, and the two must unite now, I trow."

"But Warwick is flown!" quoth the captain.

"Tush! he has only flown as the falcon flies when he has a heron to
fight with,--wheeling and soaring. Woe to the heron when the falcon
swoops! But you drink not!"

"No; I must keep the head cool to-day; for Hastings is a perilous
captain. Thy fist, friend! If I fall, I leave you Sir John and his
girl to wipe off old scores; if we beat off the Yorkists I vow to Our
Lady of Walsingham an image of wax of the weight of myself." The
marauder then started up, and strode to his men, who were snatching a
hasty meal on the space before the hostel. He paused a moment or so,
while his host whispered,--

"Hastings was here before daybreak: but his men only got the sour
beer; yours fight upon huffcap."