CRECY FIELD It was Saturday, the 26th of August, in the year 1346.

The harassed English host--but a little host, after all, retreating for its life from Paris--had forced the passage of the Somme by the ford which a forgotten traitor, Gobin Agache by name, revealed to them.

Now it stood at bay upon the plain of Crecy, there to conquer or to die.
"Will the French fight to-day, what think you ?" asked Hugh of Grey Dick, who had just descended from an apple-tree which grew in the garden of a burnt-out cottage.

Here he had been engaged on the twofold business of surveying the disposition of the English army and in gathering a pocketful of fruit which remained upon the tree's topmost boughs.
"I think that these are very good apples," answered Dick, speaking with his mouth full.

"Eat while you get the chance, master, for, who knows, the next you set your teeth in may be of the kind that grew upon the Tree of Life in a very old garden," and he handed him two of the best.
Then he turned to certain archers, who clustered round with outstretched hands, saying: "Why should I give you my apples, fellows, seeing that you were too lazy to climb and get them for yourselves?
None of you ever gave me anything when I was hungry, after the sack of Caen, in which my master, being squeamish, would take no part.