| Men of Iron|
|by Howard Pyle|
|The thrilling story, set in England in the time of Henry IV, of how Myles Falworth advances to knighthood and through 'trial by battle' restores the fallen fortunes of his family. With breathless excitement, the reader follows the adventures of the hero, sympathizing with him in his troubles, fighting in his battles, and rejoicing in his good fortunes. Numerous illustrations by the author add to the attractiveness of the volume. Ages 10-14 |
 SO LITTLE does it take to make a body's reputation.
That night all the squires' quarters buzzed with the story of how the new boy, Falworth, had answered Sir
James Lee to his face without fear, and had exchanged blows with him hand to hand. Walter Blunt himself was
moved to some show of interest.
"What said he to thee, Falworth?" asked he.
"He said naught," said Myles, brusquely. "He only sought to show me how to recover from the under cut."
"It is passing strange that he should take so much notice of thee as to exchange blows with thee with his own
hand. Haply thou art either very quick or parlous slow at arms."
 "It is quick that he is," said Gascoyne, speaking up in his friend's behalf. "For the second time that
Falworth delivered the stroke, Sir James could not reach him to return; so I saw with mine own eyes."
But that very sterling independence that had brought Myles so creditably through this adventure was certain to
embroil him with the rude, half-savage lads about him, some of whom, especially among the bachelors, were his
superiors as well in age as in skill and training. As said before, the bachelors had enforced from the younger
boys a fagging sort of attendance on their various personal needs, and it was upon this point that Myles first
came to grief. As it chanced, several days passed before any demand was made upon him for service to the heads
of the squirehood, but when that demand was made, the bachelors were very quick to see that the boy who was
bold enough to speak up to Sir James Lee was not likely to be a willing fag for them.
"I tell thee, Francis," he said, as Gascoyne and he talked over the matter one day—"I tell thee I will
never serve them. Prithee, what shame can be fouler than to do such menial service, saving for one's rightful
"Marry!" quoth Gascoyne; "I reason not of shame at this or that. All I know is that others
 serve them who are haply as good and maybe better than I be, and that if I do not serve them I get knocked i'
th' head therefore, which same goeth soothly against my stomach."
"I judge not for thee," said Myles. "Thou art used to these castle ways, but only I know that I will not serve
them, though they be thirty against me instead of thirteen."
"Then thou art a fool," said Gascoyne, dryly.
Now in this matter of service there was one thing above all others that stirred Myles Falworth's ill-liking.
The winter before he had come to Devlen, Walter Blunt, who was somewhat of a Sybarite in his way, and who had
a repugnance to bathing in the general tank in the open armory court in frosty weather, had had Dick Carpenter
build a trough in the corner of the dormitory for the use of the bachelors, and every morning it was the duty
of two of the younger squires to bring three pails of water to fill this private tank for the use of the head
esquires. It was seeing two of his fellow-esquires fetching and carrying this water that Myles disliked so
heartily, and every morning his bile was stirred anew at the sight.
"Sooner would I die than yield to such vile service," said he.
He did not know how soon his protestations would be put to the test.
 One night—it was a week or two after Myles had come to Devlen—Blunt was called to attend the Earl
at livery. The livery was the last meal of the day, and was served with great pomp and ceremony about nine
o'clock at night to the head of the house as he lay in bed. Curfew had not yet rung, and the lads in the
squires' quarters were still wrestling and sparring and romping boisterously in and out around the long row of
rude cots in the great dormitory as they made ready for the night. Six or eight flaring links in wrought-iron
brackets that stood out from the wall threw a great ruddy glare through the barrack-like room—a light of
all others to romp by. Myles and Gascoyne were engaged in defending the passage-way between their two cots
against the attack of three other lads, and Myles held his sheepskin coverlet rolled up into a ball and
balanced in his hand, ready for launching at the head of one of the others so soon as it should rise from
behind the shelter of a cot. Just then Walter Blunt, dressed with more than usual care, passed by on his way
to the Earl's house. He stopped for a moment and said, "Mayhaps I will not be in until late to-night. Thou and
Falworth, Gascoyne, may fetch water to-morrow."
Then he was gone. Myles stood staring after his retreating figure with eyes open and mouth agape,
 still holding the ball of sheepskin balanced in his hand. Gascoyne burst into a helpless laugh at his blank,
stupefied face, but the next moment he laid his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Myles," he said, "thou wilt not make trouble, wilt thou?"
Myles made no answer. He flung down his sheepskin and sat him gloomily down upon the side of the cot.
"I said that I would sooner die than fetch water for them," said he.
"Aye, aye," said Gascoyne; "but that was spoken in haste."
Myles said nothing, but shook his head.
But, after all, circumstances shape themselves. The next morning when he rose up through the dark waters of
sleep it was to feel some one shaking him violently by the shoulder.
"Come!" cried Gascoyne, as Myles opened his eyes—"come, time passeth, and we are late."
Myles, bewildered with his sudden awakening, and still fuddled with the fumes of sleep, huddled into his
doublet and hose, hardly knowing what he was doing; tying a point here and a point there, and slipping his
feet into his shoes. Then he hurried after Gascoyne, frowzy, half-dressed, and even yet only half-awake. It
was not until he was
 fairly out into the fresh air and saw Gascoyne filling the three leathern buckets at the tank, that he fully
awakened to the fact that he was actually doing that hateful service for the bachelors which he had protested
he would sooner die than render.
The sun was just rising, gilding the crown of the donjon-keep with a flame of ruddy light. Below, among the
lesser buildings, the day was still gray and misty. Only an occasional noise broke the silence of the early
morning: a cough from one of the rooms; the rattle of a pot or a pan, stirred by some sleepy scullion; the
clapping of a door or a shutter, and now and then the crowing of a cock back of the long row of
stables—all sounding loud and startling in the fresh dewy stillness.
"Thou hast betrayed me," said Myles, harshly, breaking the silence at last. "I knew not what I was doing, or
else I would never have come hither. Ne'theless, even though I be come, I will not carry the water for them."
"So be it," said Gascoyne, tartly. "An thou canst not stomach it, let be, and I will e'en carry all three
myself. It will make me two journeys, but, thank Heaven, I am not so proud as to wish to get me hard knocks
for naught." So saying, he picked up two of the buckets and started away across the court for the dormitory.
 Then Myles, with a lowering face, snatched up the third, and, hurrying after, gave him his hand with the extra
pail. So it was that he came to do service, after all.
"Why tarried ye so long?" said one of the older bachelors, roughly, as the two lads emptied the water into the
wooden trough. He sat on the edge of the cot, blowzed and untrussed, with his long hair tumbled and
His dictatorial tone stung Myles to fury. "We tarried no longer than need be," answered he, savagely. "Have we
wings to fly withal at your bidding?"
He spoke so loudly that all in the room heard him; the younger squires who were dressing stared in blank
amazement, and Blunt sat up suddenly in his cot.
"Why, how now?" he cried. "Answerest thou back thy betters so pertly, sirrah? By my soul, I have a mind to
crack thy head with this clog for thy unruly talk."
He glared at Myles as he spoke, and Myles glared back again with right good-will. Matters might have come to a
crisis, only that Gascoyne and Wilkes dragged their friend away before he had opportunity to answer.
"An ill-conditioned knave as ever I did see,"
 growled Blunt, glaring after him.
"Myles, Myles," said Gascoyne, almost despairingly, "why wilt thou breed such mischief for thyself? Seest thou
not thou hast got thee the ill-will of every one of the bachelors, from Wat Blunt to Robin de Ramsey?"
"I care not," said Myles, fiercely, recurring to his grievance. "Heard ye not how the dogs upbraided me before
the whole room? That Blunt called me an ill-conditioned knave."
"Marry!" said Gascoyne, laughing, "and so thou art."
Thus it is that boldness may breed one enemies as well as gain one friends. My own notion is that one's
enemies are more quick to act than one's friends.
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