"Come now, my lovely fighter, my gentle giant, sup this'tis life, and here behold a venison steak fit for Duke Ivo's self, come" "Nay, first," says Beltane, sitting up, "are there many hurt?" "Aye, never fear for that, my blood-thirsty dove, they be all most completely dead save one, and he sore wounded, laus Deo, amen!" "Dead!" cried Beltane, shivering, "dead, say you?" "Aye, Sir Paladin, all sweetly asleep in Abraham's bosom.

"Tay, they do be tellin' me, at two and thruppence a pound no less, an' mate wanst and twice in the day, an' a sup o' punch at night the way they'd sleep sound!

Here the stream of men and sup-plies spread out to begin its orderly, irresistible flow to the front.