reach hisrear guard now, and gallop back with his prisoners.
It was a vain hope. He had time to get his men well in hand, and thecompact little body charged along the dark road, captors and captivestogether, for about a hundred yards, when there was the shock of meetingan advancing troop of the Royalist cavalry. The clashing of swords andthe sharp rattle of blows struck at helmet and breast-piece; theplunging of horses, yells, and shouts; the deep groans of wounded men;and then, in the midst of the wild turmoil and hopeless struggle, itseemed to Fred that there was a short sharp crash of thunder,accompanied by a mingling of tiny flashes of lightning, and then thenoise and confusion of the skirmish died away--and that was all.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
COMPANIONS IN MISFORTUNE.
It was quite in keeping with his life for Fred Forrester to be awakenedby the blast of a trumpet, and, according to his habit, he made one turnand was about to spring from his rough pallet.
But he did nothing of the kind. He let his head fall back and his armdrop, as he uttered a groan of pain and weakness, which seemed to beechoed from close at hand.
Then there was a peculiar dizzy feeling of sickness; mists floatedbefore his eyes, and, in a confused, feverish, dreamy fashion, he laywondering what it all meant.
After a time he felt clearer, and found himself gazing at a small squarewindow, unglazed, one through which a great beam of sunshine fell,making a widening bar of light which cast a distorted image of theopening upon a rough brick wall. That beam of light was full of tinymotes which rose and fell and danced into the brightest part, and awayinto the gloom till, as they skurried and floated here and there, itseemed as if he were gazing at a miniature snowstorm, of which all theflakes were gold.
There were sounds outside of trampling feet; of hoofs and the snortingof horses; but all seemed distant and confused, as if his ears werestopped or the sounds were coming from a distance; but directly after avery familiar note arose--the sharp, cheery chirping of a sparrow,followed by a low groan.
But it did not seem to matter, for he was tired and sleepy and in pain,and he seemed to drop off to sleep and wake again wondering what it allmeant, and why it was, and how he came to be lying there.
After a time he stretched out one hand in a feeble way, to find that hewas touching straw, and that beneath the straw there were boards. Butthere was straw everywhere; even the ceiling seemed to be straw, coarsestraw, till he realised that it was reed thatch, and by degrees that hemust be in the upper part of a stable--the loft, for he could smell hay;and as he satisfied himself that he was right so far, he discoveredsomething more--that there were horses somewhere below, for there was aloud snorting and the rattle of a headstall.
But still it did not seem to matter, for everything connected with thewar and his duties had passed entirely from his mind, till he heard oncemore a groan from somewhere close at hand, and then a familiar voicesaid--
"Don't go on like that, lad. I dare say you're very bad, but so am I;and you'll disturb the captain."
"Captain? what captain?" thought Fred, dreamily, and who was he that heshould not be disturbed?
But he felt no inclination to speak, but lay listening to the chirpingof the sparrows, and moved his head slightly to find that it was restingupon a piece of sacking laid over the straw.
That movement brought on the dizzy sensation again, and his headthrobbed painfully for a time.
But the pain grew easier, and he lay perfectly still, watching thebeautiful beam of sunshine which came through the open window, abovewhich the roof went into a point, showing him that this was the gableend of the loft where he lay.
This did not surprise him, for he had been accustomed for months past tosleep in shed, stable, or loft, as well as in houses with decent rooms.At one time for a month a church had been the barracks where he hadlain. Rough quarters had become a matter of course, and he lay quitestill, for how long he did not know, to be roused once more by a deepgroan.
"Do you hear, lad? What's the good of going on like that?" said thefamiliar voice again.
"My head--my head!" moaned some one.
"Well, and my head, and my ribs, if you come to that; but I don't howland groan."
"Samson!"
"Master Fred! Captain, I mean. Hey, but it does a man good to hear youspeak, again. Don't die this time, dear lad."
"Die? I don't understand you."
"Then the Lord be praised, you are not going to die!"
Fred lay wondering, for there came something like a sob from close athand, though when he tried to turn towards the sound the horribledizziness came back.
"Samson!"
"Yes, Master Fred."
"What are you doing there?"
"Blubbering, dear lad, like a great calf as has lost its mother; butit's only because I'm so glad."
"But, Samson, what does it all mean?"
"What, don't you know, my lad?"
"No."
"Not that you are badly wounded--cut down same as I was when wecharged?"
"When we charged?"
"Yes, when they took us front and rear in the dark wood."
"Dark--wood?"
"Yes, lad. Some of us killed--I don't mean us--Smithers and Pelldike.The advance escaped, and so did the rear. All of us with the prisonersgot hurt more or less."
"Oh!"
The scene in the gloomy wood came back now clearly enough; and in anexcited tone Fred exclaimed--
"And the prisoners, Samson?"
"Oh, they were taken again! They're right enough."
"Scarlett Markham?"
"Yes; he came up here yesterday to see how we were."
"Oh!"
"What's the matter, my lad?"
"My father--my charge. Samson, I'm disgraced for ever."
"What, because about sixty men surprised us in that hollow road, and cutus all down? I don't see no disgrace in fighting like a man, and beingbeaten by five to one, or more than that."
"But how came we to be surprised so suddenly?"
"Dunno, Master Fred. Some one must have known we were going throughthat wood, and set a trap for us."
"And I allowed my poor fellows to walk right into it. Oh, Samson, I cannever look my father in the face again!"
"Hark at him! Nonsense! It's all ups and downs--sometimes one sidewins, sometimes t'other side. We had the best of it, and then they havethe best of it, and we're prisoners. Wait till we get well, and it willbe our side again. Long as we're not killed, what does it matter?"
"Then you are wounded, Samson?"
"Well, yes, lad; I got a tidy chop aside of the head, and a kick in theribs from a horse in the scrummage. Leastwise, it wasn't a kick, 'causeit was done with a fore leg, when somebody's horse reared up after I'dcut his master down."
"And there is some one else wounded?"
"Yes, sir--Duggen."
"Badly?"
"Tidy, sir; tidy chop. But we shall soon mend again. Bark 'll growover, same as it does when we've chopped an apple tree. I was afraid,though, as you was badly, sir?"
"Was I wounded, Samson? I feel so weak."
"Wounded, sir! Well, it was a mercy you wasn't killed!"
"It seems all so confused. I cannot recollect much."
"Of course you can't, sir. All the sense was knocked out of your head.But it'll soon come back again."
"Samson!"
"Yes, sir."
There was a pause, and Fred's henchman rose painfully on one arm to tryand make out the reason of the silence, but he could only see that theyoung officer was staring at the window.
"Poor boy!" said Samson to himself. "Seems hard for him to be made intoa soldier at his time o' life. Ought to be at school instead of wearinga sword."
"Yes, sir," he said aloud.
"Yes?"
"You called me, sir."
"Did I?" said Fred, vacantly.
"Yes, sir; you said `Samson.'"
"Oh yes, I remember. Did you see much of the fight, Samson?"
r /> "As much as any one could for the dark."
"We were attacked front and rear, weren't we?"
"That's it, sir. Trapped."
"It was all my fault, I suppose," said Fred, with a sigh.
"Fault, sir; not it. Nobody's fault. People can't do impossibilities.Why, there was sixty-five of 'em in the troop, and of course theyregularly rode us down!"
"But you did see something of the fighting?"
"To be sure I did, sir."
"Did--did I disgrace myself, Samson?"
"Did you what yourself, sir? Come, I like that! If digging your