confused din, broken by a loud"Hah!" from the landlord.
"Polly," he cried, "it's awful! Ah, here comes another regiment, and--yes, here comes the other!"
Almost as he spoke, came the sound of another shock, and then ofanother, followed by desperate clashing of steel, which grew less andless and less, and then gradually died out, to be followed by a dull,low murmur, and then silence, which lasted only a few moments, to besucceeded by a series of deafening cheers.
"Is it all over, father?" whispered Polly, with hands over her face.
"Yes, my girl," said the landlord, in a sad voice; "it is all over forthe poor fellows."
"Who have won, father?"
"What's the use of asking that? What could you expect, when it wasthree to one? Plenty of killed and wounded, and not a man escaped.Yes; there they are, two or three hundred of them, and all prisoners."
"Will they bring the wounded here, father?"
"I don't know, Polly. Where are we to put them, if they do?"
"Ah!" sighed the girl, rising and wiping her eyes, "it is very dreadful,and I nearly swooned away when they brought the first wounded men here;but I must be about and ready to help when they come. They'll want allwe can do."
She smoothed down her apron in a calm, matter-of-fact way, and thenmoved over the rustling straw, as if ready for any duty; but she seemedto recollect something, and came back to where Fred lay.
"It's your side that has won, sir," she said. "You will not be aprisoner any longer, and--"
"Yes?" said Fred, for she stopped short.
"You heard what my father said, sir? You know he likes the Royalists,and if he fought would fight for the king?"
"Yes, I could see all that from his manner. I had no need to hear hiswords."
"But he is so good and kind, sir. He would not hurt a hair of any man'shead. You will not betray him to the soldiers, sir, and let him betreated as a spy."
Fred was conscious that the girl was talking to him, but her wordsseemed to be coming through a thick mist, and she looked far awaysomewhere down a long vista of light, which stretched right away intospace, beginning upon the straw where he was lying, and passing rightout through the end of the loft. And there, within this vista of light,surrounded by dancing motes, was the landlord's daughter. Then, as if athin filmy cloud had passed over the sun, a cloud which grew thicker andthicker, so that the broad beam of light gradually died away, thepleasant young homely face grew less and less distinct, and, lastly, allwas confused and mingled with singing noises and murmurs in his head,and then--a complete blank.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
DISCOVERING THE TRAITOR.
When Fred came to himself, he was no longer lying upon straw, but upon acomfortable bed, in a clean, white-washed room. It was evening, for thesun seemed to be low, and sending a ruddy glow through the open window.
For a time he felt puzzled, and wondered why he was there; and as hetried to collect his thoughts, and the memory of the fight which he hadheard came back, it seemed as if it was all a dream.
But no; that was no dream. Tramp--tramp! tramp--tramp!--the heavy marchof an armed man. It was a sentinel going to and fro beneath the windowsure enough; for the footsteps sounded faint, grew gradually louder, asif passing close to the window, became gradually fainter, and then grewlouder once more, and this over and over again.
At the same time that he was listening to this, he became aware of apeculiar scratching noise close by, but until in his heavy drowsy statehe had settled in his own mind that it was a sentinel, he could not payany heed to the scratching.
By degrees he recognised the sound as being that of a pen, and knew thatsome one was writing, and just as he had arrived at this conclusion,there was the faint scrape of a chair, a clinking noise such as might bemade by the hilt of a sword against a breastplate, and directly after asun-browned, anxious face was gazing earnestly into his.
"Father!" whispered Fred, feebly.
"My dear boy! Thank Heaven!"
The first sentence was uttered aloud--the second breathed softly.
"How is it with you, Fred?"
"Bad, father, bad," he murmured. "I seem to have no strength left,and--and--and--oh, father," he gasped, as he clung to the hand whichtook his, "I did--indeed, I did my best."
"Why, Fred, my boy, Fred. Don't--don't take it so seriously as that.You were overpowered and wounded."
"Yes, father, but you trusted me with the prisoners, and I allowedmyself to be out-manoeuvred, and I have disgraced myself."
"What! How?"
"And I did try so hard to do my duty. I wish now I had been killed."
"Fred! My son!"
"Don't be angry with me now I am so weak."
"Yes, too weak, my dear boy," said Colonel Forrester, as he knelt downby the bedside, and passed his arm beneath the lad's neck as he kissedhis forehead, "too weak to talk about all this. Be silent and listen tome."
Fred answered by a look.
"You think you have disgraced yourself by letting your enemiesout-manoeuvre you, and with the prisoners turn the table on your littleescort?"
Fred gave another pitiful look.
"That you have disgraced yourself for ever as a young officer?"
"Yes," whispered the wounded lad.
"And that I, your father and your colonel, am angry for what you lookupon as a lapse?"
Fred tried to bow his head, but failed.
"Well, then, my dear boy, let me set your poor weak head at rest. Iknow everything you did from your start until you were trapped in thewood, the enemy letting you pass one troop, and having another waitingfor you at the end of the wood."
"Yes, that is how it was, and I did not take sufficient care."
"Yes, you did, my boy; your precautions were all that an officer on sucha duty could take, and all that I should have taken."
"You seem to be giving me fresh life, father," whispered Fred. "But howdid you know?"
"Partly from the advance guard, partly from Samson; and both join insaying that my son behaved as a gallant officer should. I am quitesatisfied, my boy. I sent you upon a dangerous expedition, and in spiteof the perils of your journey, you have escaped with life, and you areno longer a prisoner. In fact, we have turned the tables on the enemyagain, and read them a lesson they will not forget."
"Yes; I heard the fighting, father."
"And do you know whose men they were?"
"No."
"Sir Godfrey Markham's."
"Father?"
"Yes; and his son, lately your prisoner, was with them."
"And they are prisoners now?"
"No, my boy; they cut their way out with about a hundred mere, andescaped. This war is one of constant change."
"Then you are not angry with me, father?"
"On the contrary, Fred, I am proud. You acted better than many olderofficers would have done."
"You say that to comfort me over my disgrace."
"I say it because it is true, and because you are not in disgrace. Afar more experienced man would easily have been led into such an ambush,betrayed as you were."
"Betrayed?" said Fred.
"Yes; some one must have carried information to the enemy."
"You think that?"
"Of course."
"But who could have done so? We had no traitors with us."
"Perhaps not, but the enemy may have had friends near."
"Impossible, father!"
"Quite possible, my boy. Where did you stay to refresh your men?"
"Here, father--at this very place. At least," added Fred, as he glancedround, "if this is the little inn where I was a prisoner in the loft."
"The very place, my boy; and now the secret is out. Lie still now, anddon't speak."
Fred gazed at his father eagerly as he rose from his knees and crossedto the door, which he opened, passed out on to the landing, called forthe host, and returned.
Instead of the florid landlord, there was a heavy step on th
e stairs,and the shock-headed boy of the place entered the room to look from Fredto Colonel Forrester and back.
"Where does the nearest doctor live?" said the colonel, quietly.
"At Brownsand," replied the lad, with another sympathetic glance at thewounded officer.
"Rather a long ride?"
"Only twelve miles, sir."
"But that's where a body of the king's men lie, is it not?"
"Well, no, sir, I don't think so now. Those is them that you had tofight with. They were at Brownsand t'other day."
"You have a horse here, have you