Ten minutes passed, the last five of which I rode with my
face over my shoulder. "Diccon!" I cried at last, sharply.
He came to his senses with a start. "Ay, sir?" he questioned, his
face dark red.
"Suppose you look at me for a change," I said. "How long since
Dale came in, Diccon?"
"Ten years, sir."
"Before we enter Jamestown we'll pass through a certain field and
beneath a certain tree. Do you remember what happened there,
some years ago?"
"I am not like to forget, sir. You saved me from the wheel."
"Upon which you were bound, ready to be broken for drunkenness,
gaming, and loose living. I begged your life from Dale for no other
reason, I think, than that you had been a horse-boy in my old
company in the Low Countries. God wot, the life was scarcely
worth the saving!"
"I know it, sir."
"Dale would not let you go scot-free, but would sell you into
slavery. At your own entreaty I bought you, since when you have
served me indifferently well. You have showed small penitence for
past misdeeds, and your amendment hath been of yet lesser bulk.
A hardy rogue thou wast born, and a rogue thou wilt remain to the
end of time. But we have lived and hunted, fought and bled
together, and in our own fashion I think we bear each other good
will, - even some love. I have winked at much, have shielded you
in much, perhaps.
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