Samson; "and I feel as if I ought to goand fetch a dozen of our men to search this place; but whatever you tellme to do, I shall do--that is to say, so long as you don't ask me andNat to make it up."
"I will not ask you, Samson," said Fred; "I'll leave you to ask me ifyou may."
CHAPTER FORTY THREE.
THROUGH THE FIRE.
That fight within the Hall was more desperate than Fred had imagined,for until overpowered by numbers, Sir Godfrey, his son, and the braveand reckless Cavaliers by whom he had been surrounded, had fought in amanner that kept their enemies at bay.
In the rush and noise and confusion of the struggle, Sir Godfrey had notat first noticed the smoke, and when he did he was under the impressionthat it was merely the result of the firing, and caused by the heavypowder of the period. It was not until the flames had gained a hold oneither side that he realised the truth; and when it did come home tohim, he had staggered forward to strike at a couple of the many enemiesby whom he was surrounded, and whose swords had wounded him severely infour places.
That blow was the last he could give, for, faint from loss of blood, theeffort was too great; he overreached himself, stumbled and fell proneupon the polished floor. The moment before, his enemies were retiring,but at the sight of the fallen officer one of the men raised a joyousshout, and half a dozen charged back to make him prisoner.
It was at that moment Scarlett saw the great danger, and boy as he was,rushed to the rescue, striking out boldly as he leaped across hisfather, and keeping the enemy at bay.
The odds were absurd, and the men were only kept back by the suddennessand dash of the youth's attack. Then, with a laugh of derision, theywere about to seize both, when a warning shout reached them, and theyrushed away to avoid the onslaught of the terrible enemy against whichtheir weapons were of no avail.
Scarlett saw the danger, and cowered down over his father as a wave offlame was wafted above their heads, fortunately for them a current ofair keeping off the next just long enough for him to seize Sir Godfreyby the wrists and drag him back into the centre of the hall, thepolished boards rendering the task an easy one.
"Escape, Scarlett. I am spent," said Sir Godfrey, faintly.
"What! and leave you, father?" cried Scarlett, excitedly.
"Yes. You cannot get away here for the fire. Run upstairs, my boy,quick--leap from one of the windows."
"If you will come with me, father," said Scarlett.
"No, no, my boy; I am helpless. Make haste. The fire--for Heaven'ssake, make haste!"
The flames and their accompanying suffocating fumes advanced so fastthat for the moment the terrible peril unnerved Scarlett. The naturalinclination was to flee, and he received an additional impulse from hisfather's words, which in their tone of urgent command made him dashhalf-way up the broad staircase before he checked himself, turnedsharply, with one bound leaped down again to the floor, and ran to SirGodfrey's side.
"Father, I can't leave you to be burned to death," he cried. "It is toohorrible."
"Horrible? Yes," panted the wounded man; "but I can do nothing, my boy;and you--you are so young. The poor old Hall--the poor old Hall!"
For a few moments Scarlett knelt beside his father, suffocating in thegathering smoke, and looking about wildly for a way of escape, butfinding none; for the defenders had taken such precautions to keep theenemy out, that in this time of peril, they had kept themselves in.Even now Scarlett felt that, by making a bold rush through the fire andsmoke gathering in force to right and left, he might escape, singed andscorched, perhaps, but with life. To attempt this, however, with awounded man, was impossible; and, with the strong desire for lifethrilling every fibre, he uttered a despairing groan.
As the mournful sound escaped his lips, he caught tightly hold of hisfather's hands, to cling to them as if seeking strength, and asking himto keep his weak nature from repeating its former act and taking refugein so cowardly a flight.
The hands he grasped felt wet and cold, and in the misty choking gloomScarlett could see that his father's eyes were nearly closed, and thatthere was in them a fixed and glassy stare.
"He's dying!" he groaned; "he's dying!"
His son's cry seemed to rouse Sir Godfrey to a knowledge of his danger,for his eyes opened wildly, and he gazed before him, and then struggledto rise, but sank back against his son's arm.
"You have not gone!" he groaned. "Scarlett, my boy, escape!"
"I cannot leave you, father. Let me try and help you. If we could getto the upper windows!"
"And ask our enemy to take us prisoners! No, no; my poor old home iscrumbling around me--where could I die better?"
"Oh, father!"
"But you, my boy, with all your young life before you! There is yettime. God bless you, Scar! Good-bye!"
He made a faint effort to thrust his son away, but Scarlett still heldhis hands, while the fire crackled and roared in the rooms on eitherside, and kept on narrowing the space they occupied, as the great smokewreaths, pierced by ruddy tongues, rolled heavily overhead.
Scarlett set his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment, as a feeling ofhorror ran through him, and there before him, beyond the smoke of theburning woodwork, he saw in a instant the bright sunshiny paths of lifeinviting him on and on for a long career, such as youth may look forwardto in its growing vigour; but he made a desperate effort to crush outthe temptation, clinging frantically to his father's hands as he groaneddespairingly--
"I cannot leave him. It would be too base."
Till that moment the shock of their position had robbed him of energy,but no sooner had he come to the brave determination to stop and diethat horrible death by his father's side, than the strong current oflife seemed to bound again in his veins, and, with a feeling of wonderthat he could have been so supine--
"Father!" he cried; but there was no reply. "Father!"
Still no response, and he could just make out that the wounded man'seyes were closed. But Scarlett was full of energy now, and, leaping up,he seized Sir Godfrey by the arm, and dragged him by main force to thefoot of the great staircase.
"I must get him to the corridor somehow," he thought; and, stoopingdown, he clasped his arms about him, terribly impeded by the breastplateand backpiece he wore, and then, panting and suffocating, he dragged himup step by step, every one being into a more stifling atmosphere. Theincreasing heat bathed him with perspiration, and a growing sense oflanguor made him feel as if each step would be the last.
But, raging and grinding his teeth in his efforts, he toiled on till thetopmost step was reached, and there he paused, chilled now by a terribleand despairing sense of his position. The fire had eaten its wayupwards, and to drag his insensible burden to the right through the doorleading to the servants' apartments, or to the left along the corridor,was on either hand into a burning furnace.
Scarlett Markham sank upon his knees beside his father on the polishedoaken floor of the gallery, and giddy now with the heat and exhaustion,his lips cracking, and every breath he drew laden with the poisonousfumes, he felt that all was over, and, with a prayer coming confusedlyto his mind, he made a snatch at his father's hand, missed it, and fellsidewise.
But even then there was the natural involuntary effort to save himselffrom falling headlong backwards from top to bottom of the stairs, andone hand grasped at the balustrade, caught one of the carved oakenpilasters; there was a sharp cracking sound, the stair by his shouldershot back an inch or two, and a draught of cold revivifying airliterally rushed whistling through the orifice.
It was life, energy, hope, renewed courage, all in one, as he gasped andpanted and wildly thrust back the loose stair till the way was open;and, gathering strength as the fresh air rushed up into his nostrils onits way to fan the growing flames, he seized his father where he lay onthe top of the staircase, drew him towards his breast, and let him dropright into the opening, whose sloping floor made the rest comparativelyeasy.
But Scarlett worked manfully, lying down beside his
father, and edginghim along a few feet, before going back to close the opening in thestairs.
He paused for a few moments, feeling now that he was safe, and gazedupon the ruddy smoke clouds, listened to the roar and crackle of theflames, which were now within a few feet; and as he gazed, he could seethat the sharp draught rushing by him drove the flame and smoke back,and fanned the former till it glowed more brightly.
But there was no time to lose. Seizing the woodwork, he drew it overhis head, to find to his horror that already the heat had warped thewood so that it was hard to move; and, feeling that no time was to belost, he rolled himself along, forced his father on and on, till thehorizontal shallow passage was at an end--a passage already growingheated above where the fire licked the boards, and then, standingupright and breathing freely, he paused to think