Why should we tarry any longer to see everything moiled and set at
nought? I have couched in the forest before, and 'tis summer time."

"Nay," said Ambrose, "we must make up our fardels and have our money
in our pouches before we can depart. We must tarry the night, and
call John to his reckoning, and so might we set forth early enough
in the morning to lie at Winchester that night and take counsel with
our uncle Birkenholt."

"I would not stop short at Winchester," said Stephen. "London for
me, where uncle Randall will find us preferment!"

"And what wilt do for Spring!"

"Take him with me, of course!" exclaimed Stephen. "What! would I
leave him to be kicked and pinched by Will, and hanged belike by
Mistress Maud?"

"I doubt me whether the poor old hound will brook the journey."

"Then I'll carry him!"

Ambrose looked at the big dog as if he thought it would be a serious
undertaking, but he had known and loved Spring as his brother's
property ever since his memory began, and he scarcely felt that they
could be separable for weal or woe.

The verdurers of the New Forest were of gentle blood, and their
office was well-nigh hereditary. The Birkenholts had held it for
many generations, and the reversion passed as a matter of course to