Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story

promise well, then,for their journey to Newton Abbott, and matters seemed to culminate forill when the escort was ready, the prisoners' horses brought out, andFred announced that the time of departure had come. Scarlett rose fromwhere he had been lying upon his cloak in silence; but the sight of hisold companion seemed to rouse him to speak; and in a bitterlycontemptuous way he turned to his men, saying to Nat--

  "They might have sent a man to take charge of us, my lads."

  Fred winced, and felt small in his military uniform. He bit his lip,and told himself that he would not notice the petty remark, but thewords leaped out--

  "I dare say I shall be man enough to take you safely to your prison,sir;" but Scarlett turned angrily away.

  The prisoners took their cue from their leader, and behaved in anexaggerated, swaggering manner, that was galling in the extreme.

  "Seem to have starved our horses," said Nat, to one of his fellows; and,less full of control than his leader, Samson spoke out.

  "No, we haven't, for we've given the poor things a good fill out, suchas they hadn't had for a month; and my word, Nat, you look quiterespectable without those long greasy corkscrews hanging about yourears." Nat turned upon him fiercely. "Do I?" he cried. "Wait till ourturn comes, and I'll crop you."

  "Don't want it," cried Samson, gleeful at his brother's rage.

  "Your hair don't, but your ears do, so look out."

  "Silence!" cried Fred, sternly; and then he gave the order for all tomount.

  As he was obeyed, and Scarlett swung himself into the saddle, hisnostrils dilated, and as he felt the sturdy horse between his knees, heinvoluntarily glanced round at the surrounding country.

  Fred saw it, and smiled. "No, sir, not this time," he said. "I thinkyou will be too well guarded for that."

  Scarlett showed that he was well dubbed; for his pale cheeks flushed thecolour of his name as he turned away, feeling hot that his action shouldhave been plain enough for his enemy to read his thoughts.

  Then he set his teeth fast, and they grated together, as he heard Fred'snext orders, and saw a couple of men close up on either side of theprisoners, thrust a stake beneath their arms and across their backs, towhich stake their arms were firmly bound, and the ends of the cordswhich formed their bonds made fast to their horses' necks.

  "No fear o' you cantering off, Master Nat," said Samson, as, with keenappreciation of his masterful position, he tied his brother as tightlyas he could, while Nat resisted and struggled so that he had to be heldby Samson's companion, his steel headpiece falling off in the encounter."That's got him, I think," said Samson, tightening the last knot whichheld him to the horse. "Dropped your cap, have you? All right, youshall have it. There!"

  A burst of laughter followed Samson's act of politeness, for he hadstuck on the steel jockey-like cap with its peak towards the back, andthe curve, which was meant to protect the back of the head, well downover his eyes.

  "Only wait," grumbled Nat; "I'll save all this up for you."

  "Thank ye, Nat. I say, you haven't got a feather in your cap. Anybodygot a feather? No. I've a good mind to cut off his horse's tail for aplume; the root of the tail would just stick upon that spike. Hallo,what's the matter there?"

  Nat turned sharply from his brother to where Scarlett was hotlyprotesting.

  "It is a mistake," he said, angrily, to the two men who had approachedhim on either side with stake and cord. "I am an officer and agentleman, and refuse to be bound."

  "It's the captain's orders, sir," said one of the men, surlily.

  "Then go and tell him that you have mistaken his orders," criedScarlett, ignoring the fact that Fred was seated within half a dozenyards.

  The men turned to their officer, who pressed his horse's sides andclosed up.

  "What is the matter?" he said. "Of what do you complain, MasterMarkham?"

  "Tell your officer I am Captain Markham, of Prince Rupert's cavalry,"said Scarlett, haughtily.

  "I beg your pardon, captain," said Fred, coldly. "Now, then, of what doyou complain?"

  "Of your scoundrelly rabble, sir," cried Scarlett, turning upon himfiercely. "You see, they are about to treat me as if I were a dog."

  "They were going to bind you, sir, as your men are bound. In our army,the officers are not above suffering and sharing with their men."

  Scarlett winced at this, and flushed more deeply, but he tried to turnit off by a fierce attack.

  "Then this is some cowardly plot of yours to insult one who has falleninto your hands."

  "I am obeying the orders of my superior officer, who placed you and theother prisoners in my charge, with instructions that they were to beconveyed bound to their destination."

  "The men, not their officer, sir."

  "Ah," replied Fred, coldly. And then, laconically, "Bind him."

  "You insolent dog!" cried Scarlett, in his rage. "It is your malignantspite. You shall not bind me, if I die for it."

  As he spoke, he struck his spurs into his horse's flanks, snatched thestout ash staff one of the men held from his hand, leaned forward, andthen, as Fred seized his horse's bridle to stop him from galloping off,struck his captor with all his might.

  The blow was intended for Fred's head, but the movement of the horses inthe _melee_ caused the staff to fall heavily across the young officer'sthigh.

  Unable to restrain a cry of rage and pain, Fred snatched his swordthree-parts from its sheath, and then thrust it back, angry with himselffor his loss of temper, while Scarlett sat struggling vainly, for theman who held the rope had skilfully used it just as a child would askipping rope, throwing it over the prisoner's arms, crossing his hands,and passing one end to a soldier on the other side. In an instant,Scarlett's elbows were bound tightly to his ribs, and there held, whilea couple more men thrust a fresh staff behind his back and under hisarms, another rope was used, and with the rapidity which comes ofpractice upon hundreds of previous prisoners, the passionate youngofficer was literally bound and trussed, the ends of rope being madefast to the horse he rode.

  The men who were looking on, murmured angrily at the blow which they sawfall on their young officer.

  "Hang him to the nearest tree," shouted one of the party.

  "Silence!" cried Fred, sternly; and speaking quite calmly now, though hewas quivering with pain, he pressed his horse closely to that upon whichhis prisoner rode.

  "That was a cowardly blow, Scar Markham," he said, in a whisper. "I wasonly doing my duty. You'll ask my pardon yet."

  "Pardon?" raged the lad; "never! Oh, if I only were free and had mysword, I'd make you beg mine for this indignity. Miserable wretch!Rebel! I shall live yet to see you and your traitor of a father hung."

  Fred started angrily at this, but he checked himself, reined back hishorse, and looking very white now from anger and pain, he gave the wordof command. Six of his men formed up in front of the prisoners, theother six took their places behind; swords were drawn, and the horsesbearing the prisoners needed no guiding, but in accordance with theirtraining as cavalry mounts, set off in rank as the word "March!" wasgiven, the young leader waiting till all had passed, and then taking hisplace beside the last two men, one of whom was Samson.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

  A COWARDLY REVENGE.

  No word was spoken as they crossed the fields that separated them fromthe road, which they reached by the leading men turning their horsesinto the rapid stream, and letting them wade for a few yards through theflashing water knee-deep, and sending the drops foaming and sparkling inthe bright morning sun.

  "Left," shouted Fred, as the road was reached, and the next minute thelittle detachment was trampling up the dust which rose behind them.

  "Did it hurt you much, Master Fred?" whispered Samson.

  "Hurt me? I felt as if my leg was cut off; and it is just now as if thebone was broken."

  "Perhaps you'd better not go, sir."

  "Not go? I'd go if it was ten times as bad."

  "And what are you going to
do to Master Scar?"

  "Half kill him some day."

  "Why not to-day, sir? Draw up somewhere in a wood, and we'll all seefair. You can whip him, Master Fred; I know you can. We'll set themfree for a bit, and I'll stand by you, and Nat shall stand by his youngmaster."

  "Don't talk nonsense, Samson."

  "'Tisn't nonsense, sir. You nearly always used to whip him when you twofell out, and you're bigger and stronger now."

  "But we are in different positions now, Samson," said Fred,thoughtfully; "and it