William’s bugle had just returned to public life after one of its periodic terms of retirement into his father’s keeping.

William took his bugle proudly in one hand and his pistol (the glorious result of a dip in the bran tub at a school party) in the other, and, sternly denying themselves the pleasures of afternoon school, off the two set upon the road of romance and adventure.

“I’ll carry the bugle,” said Ginger, “’cause I’m squire.”

William was loth to give up his treasure.

“Well, I’ll carry it now,” he said, “but when I begin’ fightin’ folks, I’ll give it you to hold.”

They walked along for about a mile without meeting anyone.  William began to be aware of a sinking feeling in the region of his waist.

“I wonder wot they eat,” he said at last.  “I’m gettin’ so’s I wouldn’t mind sumthin’ to eat.”

“We di’n’t ought to have set off before dinner,” said the squire with after-the-event wisdom.  “We ought to have waited till after dinner.”

“You ought to have brought sumthin’,” said William severely.  “You’re the squire.  You’re not much of a squire not to have brought sumthin’ for me to eat.”

“An’ me,” put in Ginger.  “If I’d brought any I’d have brought it for me more’n for you.”

William fingered his minute pistol.

“If we meet any wild animals ...” he said darkly.

A cow gazed at them mournfully over a hedge.

“You might go an’ milk that,” suggested William.  “Milk ’ud be better’n nothing.”

“You go ’an milk it.”

“No, I’m not squire.  I bet squires did the milkin’.  Knights wu’n’t of done the milkin’.”

“I’ll remember,” said Ginger bitterly, “when you’re squire, all the things wot you said a squire ought to do when I was squire.”

They entered the field and gazed at the cow from a respectful distance.  She turned her eyes upon them sadly.

“Go on!” said the knight to his reluctant squire.

“I’m not good at cows,” objected that gentleman.

“Well, I will, then!” said William with reckless bravado, and advanced boldly upon the animal.  The animal very slightly lowered its horns (perhaps in sign of greeting) and emitted a sonorous mo-o-o-o-o.  Like lightning the gallant pair made for the road.

“Anyway,” said William gloomily, “we’d got nothin’ to put it in, so we’d only of got tossed for nothin’, p’raps, if we’d gone on.”

They walked on down the road till they came to a pair of iron gates and a drive that led up to a big house.  William’s spirits rose.  His hunger was forgotten.

“Come on!” he said.  “We might find someone to rescue here.  It looks like a place where there might be someone to rescue.”

There was no one in the garden to question the right of entry of two small boys armed with a bugle and a toy pistol.  Unchallenged they went up to the house.  While the knight was wondering whether to blow his bugle at the front door or by the open window, they caught sight suddenly of a vision inside the window.  It was a girl as fair and slim and beautiful as any wandering knight could desire.  And she was speaking fast and passionately.