FIVE CHILDREN AND IT
"Go, then!" said the man in the longest boots; "none hindereth, and nought lets us to follow. Zooks!" he added in a cautious undertone, "I misdoubt me but he beareth tidings to the besieged."
"Where dwellest thou, young knave?" inquired the man with the largest steel-cap.
"Over there," said Robert; and directly he had said it he knew he ought to have said "Yonder!"
"Ha—sayest so?" rejoined the longest boots. "Come hither, boy. This is matter for our leader."
And to the leader Robert was dragged forthwith—by the reluctant ear.
The leader was the most glorious creature Robert had ever seen. He was exactly like the pictures Robert had so often admired in the historical romances. He had armor, and a helmet, and a horse, and a crest, and feathers, and a shield and a lance and a sword. His armor and his weapons were all, I am almost sure, of quite different periods. The shield was thirteenth century, while the sword was
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