"Are you an Englishman?"
"I am that! Born within sound o' Bow Bells; 'tis all o' twenty years since I heard 'em but they ring in my dreams sometimes. I shipped on a venture to the Main twenty years ago and fought and rioted as a man may and by ill-luck fell into the hands o' the bloody Spaniards along o' six other good lads--all dead long since, master. Then the Inquisition got me and was going to burn me but not liking the thought on't, I turned Roman. Then they made me a slave, but I got away at last. Aha, all Spanishers are devils for cruelty, but their Churchmen are worst and of all their Churchmen the coldest, softest, bloodiest is Alexo Valdez, Chief Inquisitor of Nombre de Dios yonder--"
"Ha, you know Nombre de Dios?"
"I ha' lived and suffered there, master, and 'tis there I be a-going for to make an end o' Bloody Valdez, if God be kind."
"Then," said I, "we will travel so far together--"
"And what doth an Englishman the like o' you want with the accursed place; the Inquisition is strong there--"
"'Tis a matter of life and death," said I.
"Death!" said he, "Death--they should all be dead and rotting, if I had my way." So saying, this strange man, whose face I had scarce seen, laid him down beyond the fire and composed himself to slumber.
"How then," I demanded, "will ye sleep here in the wild and no watch?"
"I will that!" said he. "I know the wilderness and I have endured much o' hardship o' late and as to watching, there's small need. The rogues you fell upon, being Spaniards, will doubtless be running yet and nigh unto Nombre, by now."
"How far is it hence?"
"Twelve leagues by road, but less the ways I travel."
"Good!" said I.
"Though 'tis hard going."
"No matter."
"Why, then, sleep, for we march at dawn. And my name is John."
"And mine Martin."
"Why, then, Martin, good night."
"Good night, John."
Howbeit though (and despite his hurts) my companion presently slept and snored lustily, and though I kept myself awake and my weapons to hand, yet I fell a-nodding and at last, overcome with weariness, sank to sleep likewise.
I waked to find the sun up and the man John shaking me, a wild, unlovely, shaggy fellow, very furtive of eye and gesture, who cringed and cowered away as I started up.
"Lord, man," quoth I, "I am no enemy!"
"I know it!" said he, shaking tousled head. "But 'tis become nat'ral to me to slink and crawl and blench like any lashed cur, all along o' these accursed Spaniards; I've had more kicks and blows than I've lived days," he growled, munching away at the viands he had set forth.