spursinto your horse, and shouting to us to come on, and then going to workwith your sword as if it was a scythe, and the pleasaunce hadn't beencut for a month in June's disgracing yourself, why, I suppose you did!"
"Then I did fight?"
"Fight! I should think you aid."
"Like a man, Samson--like an officer should?"
"Why, of course you did, sir!"
"As my father would have liked to see me fight, if he had been there?"
"Well, sir, that question's a puzzler. You see, fathers is fathers,and, as far as ever I've been able to find out, they don't like theirboys to fight. Why, my father was always giving me and Nat the strapfor fighting, because we was always at it--strap as he wore round hiswaist, when he wasn't banging our heads together. You see, Nat wasalways at me, and knocking me about. We never did agree; but our oldman wouldn't let us fight, and I don't believe your father would haveliked to see you trying to cut people's heads off with that sword ofyours."
"Well, then," said Fred, smiling faintly, "would my colonel have beensatisfied with what I did to save the prisoners and my men?"
"Wouldn't be much of a colonel if he wasn't. There, dear lad, don't youfret yourself about that. I've heered the men here say you did wondersfor such a boy, and a big sergeant who fetched you off your horse was uphere yesterday--"
"Yesterday?" interrupted Fred. "Why, we were travelling yesterday!"
"That we were not, my lad, for we've been lying here two days."
"Oh!" ejaculated Fred.
"While you've been off your head."
"Oh, Samson!"
"Well, sir, that's better than your head being off you."
"Then you are sure I did my duty?"
"Duty, sir? Yes; that's what I was going to tell you. The big six-footsergeant who fetched you off your horse with a great cut of his heavysword was up here yesterday to see you; and I heered him say to himself,`Poor boy! I feel ashamed of myself for cutting him down. What wouldhis poor mother say to me if she knew?'"
"I can lie patiently now till I get well," said Fred, after a pause. "Iwas frightened by my thoughts, Samson."
"Yes; them's what frightens most of us, sir."
"I mean by the thought that I had not done my duty by my charge."
"But you did, sir; and it's the fortune o' war. They was prisoners theother day; now we're prisoners this day."
"And Master Scarlett Markham, and your brother, and the other men?"
"All here, sir. There's about a thousand of the enemy about, waiting, Isuppose, to drop upon our side, if our side doesn't drop upon them.Fortune o' wars sir--fortune o' war."
Samson waited for Fred to speak again; but as he remained silent, theex-gardener went on--
"I've been expecting to hear some news of my beautiful brother, but Ihaven't heered a word, only that he's about somewhere. Oh, I am proudof him, Master Fred! I shouldn't wonder if we was to be sent offsomewhere--Exeter or Bristol, maybe, and Master Scarlett and my brotherhad charge of us. Be rum, wouldn't it?"
Fred sighed as he recalled the past.
"Couldn't cut our hair short, sir, could they?"
Fred remained silent, and his follower went on.
"Nat said first chance he had, he'd crop my ears. That's like him allover. But he dursn't, sir. Not he. I should just like to catch him atit. Pst! some one coming."
Fred had already heard steps below, and then the creaking of a ricketyladder, as if some one were ascending.
Directly after a door on his left was thrown open, a flood of sunshineburst into the cobweb-hung loft, and an officer and a private of cavalrycame rustling through the straw till they were within the scope of thewounded lad's gaze, and a chill of misery ran through him like a shudderas he saw Scarlett Markham, followed by Samson's brother Nat.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
SAMSON AND HIS BROTHER.
In spite of the cropped appearance of his head, a cropping that wasstill closer now in consequence of his having had Fred Forrester'sclumsy shearing regulated, Scarlett Markham had pretty well regained hisold dashing cavalier aspect. He had somehow obtained a fresh hat andfeathers, and, as he stood at the foot of Fred's straw bed, with onehand resting upon the hilt of his long sword, the other carelesslybeating a pair of leather gauntlet gloves against his leg, he looked, inhis smart scarlet and gold uniform, the beau ideal of a young officer.
Following the action of his leader, Nat passed on, and stopped at thespot where his brother lay, to stand gazing down at the wounded man.
Fred was too weak to do more than move his head slightly, so as to gazeback at his enemy; but he met Scarlett's stern look defiantly, andwaited for him to speak.
And as he lay there the rough loft and its straw seemed to pass away,for the background of his mental picture to become the park and groundsabout the old Hall, on one of the old sunny days when he and Scarletthad had a quarrel about some trivial matter, and were gazingthreateningly at each other after uttering dire words, and weredeclaring that everything between them was quite at an end, and thatthey were never going to speak to each other again.
Then the present came back, and there stood Scarlett, looking stern andfrowning, as he involuntarily passed his great gloves into his lefthand, and began to let his finger and thumb play about his lips, wherehe tried to find--and failed--an imaginary moustache, which, all thesame, he twisted up into airy points to add to his fierce aspect. Alittle bit of conceit which he had picked up during his soldier life.
"What a miserable peacock he has grown!" thought Fred. "And I am in thepower now of such a court fop, whose only idea is dress and show. Well,I'm glad I belong to the haul, quiet Parliamentarians. Better thanbeing like that."
But somehow, all the while, Fred could not help thinking of his ownplain buff-leather uniform, with its heavy, clumsy, steel breast andback plates, which, like his hard, head-aching helmet, were more oftenrusty than bright, and, though he would not have owned it, he could nothelp admiring the figure before him, and looking at it with somethinglike envy.
"Why don't he speak?" thought Fred, with a faint flush coming into hischeeks. "Does he think he is going to stare me down?"
The faint flush deepened a little, as he grew indignant at his enemycoming to triumph over him in his helplessness; and then he thought ofhow he had triumphed when it was his day, and how he had humbled his oldcompanion to the dust.
"And what a mean, contemptible triumph it was, and how it stung me farmore than it did him! But he shan't humble me. I can be as defiant ashe is, and I'll die before I'll show him that he has gained the day."
But as Fred defiantly returned Scarlett's calm, stern look, a thick mistseemed to gather slowly between them, making the face of the youngCavalier grow faint and distant, a singing noise came in his ears, andslowly and painfully everything seemed to pass away till all was darkonce more.
Meanwhile, Nat Dee had crept close to his brother's head, and, kneelingin the straw, allowed a grin to overspread his rustic countenance.
"You've got it, then, this time?" he whispered.
Samson had "got it this time," indeed, for his bandages wanted changing,and his wounds were hot and painful; but, in spite of his anguish, heechoed, so to speak--visibly echoed his brother's broad grin, andacknowledged the fact, fully resolved that, as Nat had come to triumphover him, he should be disappointed.
"Yes," he said in a cheerful whisper; "I've got it this time, Natty."
"Don't you feel ashamed of yourself?"
"Not a bit."
"Then you ought to. Suppose your poor mother saw you now, what do youthink she would say?"
"Say? Say, `Get your ugly great carcase out of the way, and let poorSamson have room to breathe.'"
"Nay, she would not; she'd say, `Here's my wicked young black sheep asleaped out of the fold to go among the wolves, properly punished, andI'm very glad of it.'"
"Well, then, I'm very glad she isn't here to listen to her ugly son Nattelling such a pack of lies."
> "Nay, it's the truth."
"Not it," said Samson, cheerily. "My poor old mother couldn't say suchwords as that. She'd more likely say, `If I didn't know you two boyswas my twins, I should say that Nat belonged to some one else, and waspicked up by accident.'"
"Nay, she wouldn't; she'd be ashamed of you."
"Never was yet, Nat; and if I wasn't lying here too weak and worn-out tomove, I'd get up and punch your ugly head, Nat, till you could seebetter, and make