I have specially commended you to him, as one
always to be depended upon."
"I am greatly beholden to your lordship," Oswald said, "and will try to
justify the commendations that you have given me."
At daybreak on the following morning, the little party rode out from
the castle. Oswald with his uncle rode in front; the former in the
highest spirits, while the sturdy old soldier was himself scarce less
pleased, at this change from the monotony of life in garrison.
"Years seem to have fallen off my shoulders, lad," he said, "and I feel
as young as I did when I fought at Otterburn."
"That was a bad business, Uncle; and I trust that no such misfortune as
that will befall us, this time."
"I hope not, indeed, Oswald. It was a sore fight, and we are scarce
likely to have a pitched battle with these Welsh carls. They fight not
much in our fashion, as I have heard; but dash down from their hills,
and carry fire and sword through a district, and are off again before a
force can be gathered to strike a blow. Then there are marches to and
fro among their hills, but it is like chasing a will-o'-the-wisp; and
like enough, just when you think you have got them cooped up, and
prepare to strike a heavy blow, they are a hundred miles away,
plundering and ravaging on our side of the frontier.
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