of wolves at any time. They are now expecting their harvest, and are reinforced with the soldiers that escaped from Torquilstone. So that, should we meet with a band of them, we are like to pay for our feats of arms.—Now, I pray you, Sir Knight, what would you do if we met two of them?”
“Pin the villains to the earth with my lance, Wamba, if they offered us any impediment.”
“But what if there were four of them?”
“They should drink of the same cup,” answered the Knight.
“What if six,” continued Wamba, “and we as we now are, barely two—would you not remember Locksley’s horn?”
“What! sound for aid,” exclaimed the Knight, “against a score of such rascaille as these, whom one good knight could drive before him, as the wind drives the withered leaves?”
“Nay, then,” said Wamba, “I will pray you for a close sight of that same horn that hath so powerful a breath.”
The Knight undid the clasp of the baldric, and indulged his fellow-traveller, who immediately hung the bugle round his own neck.
“Tra-lira-la,” said he, whistling the notes; “nay, I know my gamut as well as another.”
“How mean you, knave?” said the Knight; “restore me the bugle.”
“Content you, Sir Knight, it is in safe keeping. When Valour and Folly travel, Folly should bear the horn, because she can blow the best.”
“Nay but, rogue,” said the Black Knight, “this exceedeth thy license—Beware ye tamper not with my patience.”