Page:The Dark Frigate (Hawes).djvu/46

“I could bear you company, but—” A doubt crept on him: when sober they might be of quite another mind.

“Nay, say us no buts.”

“I have neither money nor gear for a journey.”

“Nor we—come!—Nay, I am not so deep in my cups that I do not know my own mind.” The man chuckled, perceiving that his intuition had fathomed the lad’s hesitation.

Rising, Phil looked at the two again. He was as tall as they, if not so broad. After all, it was only Martin whose head was humming with liquor; the lean man, it now appeared, was as sober as he pleased to be.

“And if I have no money?”

“We are the better matched.”

They returned to the highway, where Martin and the thin man took up the jug between them, each holding by his forefinger one of its two handles, and together all three set out. But the jug was heavy and they progressed slowly.

“In faith, the day ’s warm and the road is dusty and I must drink again,” said Martin at last.

They stopped and set the jug down in the road.

“You must pay,” said the thin man.

Taking from his pocket a penny, Martin handed it to his companion and filling a great cup, drained it to the bottom. He then shook the jug, which showed by the sound that there was little left.

They walked on a while; then the thin man stopped. “I ’ll take a bit of something myself,” he said. He took the penny out of his pocket, handed it to Martin, filled the cup and drained it.

Both then looked at Phil. “It is tuppence a quantum,” said the thin man. “Have you tuppence?”