“Marry then, it must be my life, for money I have none.  I have naught but an old suit of clothes and a breviary in yon bag.  You are welcome to both an ye will condescend to wear such habiliments; but I trow ye would find them sorry garments after those ye now display.”

“Tut, tut! we will see to that.  There be many cunning fashions of hiding money, and we are used to such tales as yours.  Where is your companion, young man?”

“Nay, I have no companion,” answered Cuthbert, who was sufficiently imbued with the spirit of his father’s creed not to hesitate for a moment to utter an untruth in a good cause, and think no shame of it; “I am journeying forth to London alone, to seek a relative there, who methinks will help me to earn an honest livelihood.  I would I were the rich man you take me for.  But even the dress I wear is mine through the charity of a kinsman, as is also the nag I ride.  And I misdoubt me if you would find him of much use to you in your occupation.”

One or two of the men laughed.  They looked at Dobbin and then at his rider, and seemed to give credence to this tale.  Cuthbert’s boyish face and fearless manner seemed to work in his favour, and one of the band remarked that he was a bold young blade, and if in search of a fortune, might do worse than cast in his lot with them.

“Yet I verily thought there had been two,” grumbled another of the band; “I wonder if he speaks sooth.”

“I warrant me he does, else where should the other be?  It was a trick of the moonlight; it often deceives us so.

“Come now, my young cockerel; you can crow lustily, it seems, and keep a bold face where others shrink and tremble and flee.  How say you? will you follow us to our lodging place for the night?  And if we find no money concealed about you, and if your story of your poverty be true, you can think well whether you will choose to cast in your lot with us.  Many a poor man has done so and become rich, and the life is a better one than many.”

All this was spoken in a careless, mocking way, and Cuthbert did not know if the proposal were made in good faith or no.  But it was plain that no harm was meant to his life or person, and as he was in no fear from any search of his clothes and bag, he was ready and willing to accept the invitation offered, and by no means sorry to think he should be relieved from spending the night in the saddle.

“I will gladly go with you,” he answered.  “I have spoken naught but sooth, and I have no fear.  My person and my goods are in your hands.  Do as you will with them; I have too little to lose to make a moan were you to rob me of all.”