and he turned and foundSamson there, and this set him thinking about poor Nat lying helpless inthe wood.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
SAMSON VISITS HIS BROTHER.
No orders were given for attack that night, and Fred went to the roughshelter that served him for tent, to lie down, but not to sleep, for histhoughts were either at the Manor, which was to him as if it were ahundred miles away; at the Hall, where he knew that the little Royalistparty were doing everything to resist the impending attack; or in thegloomy old patch of ancient forest they called the wilderness, wherepoor Nat lay helpless, and very little removed from death.
"I can't sleep," said Fred, at last, as he rose from his bed, whichconsisted of a pile of heather, over which his horseman's cloak wasthrown, and impetuously hurrying out, he stood gazing up at the brightstars, with the cool moist wind from the north-west bearing to his hotcheeks the freshness of the sea.
"Perhaps dying," he said to himself at last. "I can't lie therethinking about it. I will go, at all costs, and he shall go with me."
He stepped back into his rough tent, buckled on his sword, threw thestrap of a wallet over his head, and then took the remainder of hisevening meal and a small flask, which he placed in the wallet. Thisdone, he paused for a few moments, and then sought a scarf and a coupleof handkerchiefs, which he also thrust into the wallet.
The next minute he was groping his way toward the place in a thick grovewhere the horses were picketed; and he had not far to look, on reachinghis own, before finding Samson curled up in a half-sitting, half-lyingposition between the mossy buttresses formed by the roots of a hugebeech.
Stooping down, he seized his henchman's shoulder, and shook him, butonly elicited a grunt.
He shook him again, but though his act was more vigorous, it onlyelicited a fresh series of grunts.
"You idle pig!" cried Fred, angrily, as he administered a kick; "getup!"
_Snore_!
A long-drawn, deep-toned snore.
"Samson! I want you." No response. Samson's senses were so deeplysteeped in sleep that nothing seemed to rouse him.
"I wish I had a pin," muttered Fred, as he kicked and shook again,without effect. "And there isn't a thorn anywhere near. Spurs!" heexclaimed. "No," he added in a disappointed tone--"too blunt. There'sno water to rouse him nearer than the lake; and if there was, it wouldbe too bad to let him go about drenched. What shall I do? Samson, getup; I want you. I'll prick you with my sword, if you don't wake up."
"Tell him the enemy's here, sir," said a sleepy man lying close by.
"Wouldn't wake him, if he did," grumbled another.
The men's remarks suggested an idea which made Fred smile, as he wentdown on one knee, placed his lips close to Samson's ear, and whispered--
"Well, I wouldn't let him meddle with my garden. Your brother Nat."
That one word, "Nat," seemed to run echoing through all the convolutionsof Samson Dee's brain, and he started up at once, full of eagerness andthoroughly awakened, as if by a magic touch.
"Nat?" he said. "Who spoke of Nat? Here, where is he?"
"Are you awake?"
"Awake, sir? Yes, sir. I was dreaming about my brother Nat coming andinterfering with our garden. Beg pardon, Master Fred, but I was deadasleep. Want me, sir? Your horse?"
"I want you to come with me."
"Yes, sir, of course," cried Samson, "Ready in a minute."
He was ready in less, for all the dressing he had to do consisted inbuckling on the sword, which hung from a knot in the beech-tree, andsticking on his steel cap.
"Don't ask questions, Samson, but come along."
Fred led the way out of the camp and down by the lake, which he skirtedtill he had passed round the extreme end, when, to Samson'sastonishment, Fred struck out straight for the wilderness.
"We going to surprise them up at the Hall, sir, and take it all byourselves?" Samson whispered at last, for he could contain himself nolonger.
"No; I am going to surprise you, Samson," was the reply, in a lowwhisper, as they went on, their way lying between two lines ofsentinels, the outposts being posted further away, and those who hemmedin the little garrison being run right up as near as possible to theHall, so as to guard against any sally or attempt at evasion.
"Nothing won't surprise me now," muttered Samson, as he tramped onslowly behind his leader in a very ill humour, which he did not display,for it was not pleasant for a heavy sleeper to be roused from his rest."But it don't matter. I'm about ready for anything now. Why, what's hegoing to do up in the old wilderness? Oh, I know; after rabbits. Well,that's better. A biled rabbit for dinner to-morrow, and a bit o' bacon,will be like a blessing to a hungry man. Heigh--ho! ha--hum! how sleepyI do feel."
"Hist!"
"Right, Master Fred."
"There are sentinels a hundred yards to the right, and a hundred yardsto the left," whispered Fred, in his companion's ear.
"Which as you haven't measured it, sir, you don't know," said Samson tohimself. But replying in a whisper, he said, "Yes, Master Fred, but youdidn't fetch me out of bed to tell me that."
"No; I tell you now, to keep you from yawning like the Silcombe bull."
"Well, I couldn't help it, sir; but I won't do so no more."
"Keep close behind me, tread softly, and as soon as we get up to thewilderness move every bough as carefully as you can."
"Rabbits, sir?"
"No, no. Silence! Follow me."
"'Course I'll follow him; but what's he going after? Well, I aren'tsurprised. Nothing surprises me now that the place is turned upsidedown. I don't believe I should feel surprised if my brother Nat was towant to shake hands, though that would be a startler."
Samson went on musing after his fashion, as he kept close to Fred'sheels, and they went quickly and silently on over the soft wet grass,till a great black patch began to loom over them, grew more dark, andthen, after a few moments' hesitation and trying to right and left, Fredplunged in, to force his way as carefully as possible, but making veryslow progress toward the spot he sought, for to a great extent it wasguess-work in the utter blackness which reigned around.
"I say, Master Fred?" whispered Samson, as a pause was made.
"Yes."
"You said something just now about the Silcombe bull."
"Well?"
"I wish he was here."
"Why?"
"So as to go first and make a way. I'm getting scratched all to bits."
"I think we are right. Come along."
"Come along it is, sir; but I'm getting so thirsty."
They went on for a few minutes more, and then Samson uttered anexclamation.
"Hush!" whispered Fred.
"But didn't you hear that, sir? It's the guytrash."
"Here, this way," whispered Fred. "I can find the place now."
"No, no, dear lad, don't go near it," said Samson, under his breath."You never know what may happen, if you go near it. Don't, pray don'tgo."
Samson emphasised his appeal by holding tightly to his young master'sjerkin, impeding his movements to such an extent that Fred turned uponhim fiercely.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," he said, "with your guytrashesand goblins, and witches and nonsense."
"What, sir! Why, didn't you hear it moan yonder?"
"I heard a sigh."
"Well, sir, that was the guytrash calling to you to come, so as to gethold of you; and if it did I should never see you again."
"Not if it keeps as dark as this, you stupid old grub. I know what madethat sound. Come along."
"What, are you going to risk it, sir, in spite of all I said?"
"Yes; I am going on there."
"Very well, sir. I didn't want to die like this in the dark, and Idon't know whether weapons is of any use against things like that; butI'll stand by you, Master Fred, to the end."
As he spoke, there was a faint grating sound which attracted Fred'sattention.
"Were you drawin
g your sword?" he whispered.
"Yes, sir."
"What for?"
"To cut the guytrash down, if I can."
"Put it away," whispered Fred, angrily. "What you have come to seewants no cutting down. It's a wounded man."
"Oh!" ejaculated Samson, as he thrust his sword back into its sheath."Why didn't you say so sooner, Master Fred?"
"This way--this way," came back to him,