Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story

you feel sorry for saying such wicked things about mypoor old mother."

  "She's my mother as much as she is yours."

  "Yes, poor old soul; and sick and sorry she is to have such a son asyou."

  "Nay, it's sick and sorry she is to have a son as deserts his king, andgoes robbing and murdering all over the country with a pack of ruffiansscraped from everywhere."

  "No, I didn't; I never desarted no king. I wasn't the king's servant,lad."

  "Yes, you was."

  "Not I, Natty. I was master's servant, and he says, `Will you come andfight for me, Samson,' he says, `against oppression?' `'Course I will,master,' I says. `And handle a sword instead of a spade,' he says.`You give me hold of one, master,' I says, `and I'll show you.' That'show it was, Natty."

  "Your master's a bad man, and him and you will be hung or chopped assure as you're alive."

  "You always was a muddlehead, Natty. It's your master as is the badman; Colonel Forrester's a thorough gentleman, and we always had betterfruit and garden stuff at the Manor than you had at the Hall, and that'swhat makes you so wild against me."

  "Yah! Why, you never grew anything but weeds at the Manor. Your gardenwas just as if pigs had got into it."

  "Did you think so, Natty?" said Samson, good-temperedly.

  "Yes."

  "That shows what I say 's right. You always was such a muddlehead thatyou couldn't tell good from bad, and you don't know any better now.Poor old Nat, I don't bear you any malice or hatred in my heart. I'msorry for you."

  Nat ground his teeth gently, for his brother's easy-going way angeredhim.

  "Sorry for me?" he said. "Why, you're a miserable rebel, that's whatyou are."

  "Not I, Natty; not a bit miserable. If you was not here, I should lieback and sing."

  "Shall you sing when they take you out and hang you?"

  "Not going to hang me, Natty; not ugly enough. Now, if it had beenyou--I say, Nat, I should like to have you hung up in the Manor gardento keep away the birds."

  "What?"

  "To scare 'em. You do look such an old Guy Fawkes. I say, who cut yourhair?"

  Nat's hand went involuntarily to his freshly shorn head, and a dull redglow came into his cheeks.

  "You wait till I get better, and I'll crop it for you neatly. Why, youdon't look one thing nor the other now. Cavaliers wouldn't own you, andI should be ashamed to set aside you in our ranks."

  "Go on," said Nat, grinning viciously. "That's your nastiness; but itdon't tease me. I'm sorry for you, Samson. What a pass for arespectable Dee to come to, only you never was respectable. But there'san end to all things. Made your will?"

  "Nay, Natty, not yet."

  "Thought you might like to leave any clothes you've got to yourbrother."

  "Well, I did think about it, Natty; but, you see, my brother's grown tobe such a high and mighty sort of chap as wouldn't care for anythingthat wasn't scarlet and gold. I say, Natty, I have got something thoughas you may as well have--hidden away in the roof of my tool-shed."

  "Eh? What is it?" said Nat, who was betrayed into eagerness by the ideathat perhaps his brother had a pot of money hidden away in the thatch.

  "Perhaps I'd better not let you have it. You're proud enough as it is."

  "You can do as you like with it, of course," said Nat, with assumedindifference.

  "Ah, well, it will be useful to you, if what you say's true about me.It would be a pity for any one else to get it, wouldn't it?"

  "Well, I am your brother, after all," said Nat, quietly.

  "Yes, so you are, Natty; and you're just the chap to be proud of it, andwear it stuck in your steel pot. Look here, you go into the tool-shedat the Manor, first time you're that way, and as soon as you're insidethe door, reach up your hand, and in the dark corner you'll find abundle of our old peacock's moultings when he dropped his tail. Youshall have 'em, Nat, and I hope I shall live to see you with 'em in youriron cap. My! you will look fine!"

  "If you wasn't such a miserable scrunched-up garden-worm of a man, I'dbaste you with my sword-belt, Samson," whispered Nat, angrily.

  "Thank ye, Nat, lad. Thank ye. It's very kind of you to say so. Saveit up, lad, till I'm better. It will be pleasanter then for us both."

  "Nat," said Scarlett just then.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Come here."

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

  AN EXCITING WATCH.

  Fred lay insensible for a few minutes, and when he did struggle backinto consciousness, it seemed to him that he must be still dreaming, orelse that the bewildering excitement of the civil war, with the misery,despair, and wretchedness, was all the result of his feveredimagination.

  What did it all mean? he asked himself. Were they back at home, and hadhe fallen from the pony and struck his head against a rock? or was heover at the Hall, and was this the time when he climbed the great elm toget the magpie's nest, and had that horrible fall?

  No; it was all true--this was the war time--he was badly wounded, andhis enemy, Scarlett Markham, the young Cavalier, was bending over him inmocking triumph at his downfall, and revenging himself for the insult hehad received in the loss of his flowing curls.

  It was a cruel revenge--one which, in spite of his efforts, brought theweak tears to his eyes, and, as he closed them tightly to hide hisemotion three or four great drops were shut out by the lids, and rolledslowly down on either side, tickling him for the time before they werewashed away.

  Then, as the time glided on, Fred opened his eyes, and looked up inScarlett's, as he again asked himself whether it was all a dream, theconsequence of his fevered state.

  For there, kneeling in the straw, was Scarlett Markham, his buffgauntlet gloves thrust in his sword-belt, his cavalier hat cast aside,and his brow knit and glistening with perspiration, as he kept ondipping a white kerchief in a bowl of cold water held by some one at theback, and carefully bathed Fred's forehead.

  How cool and delightful that water felt as the kerchief was opened out,and spread right across the brow from temple to temple! Then how hot itgrew, till it was softly removed, to be resoaked and applied once morewith all the tender solicitude that would have been shown by a woman.

  Fred wanted to speak, but no words would come; he could only lie there,with his breast heaving, as he watched the calmly stern, handsome facebending over him, and thought of the past--their old boyish friendship,the delightful days when they frolicked in the park; and fished, andsought for plovers' eggs on the moor. How short a time ago it seemed,and now they were acting the parts of men fighting on either side in theterrible civil war which was devastating old England; enemies--deadlyenemies, and Scarlett Markham was pouring coals of fire upon his head.

  "Shall I fetch some more water, sir? This is getting quite warm," saida pleasant voice.

  "Yes, I was going to ask you to get some more," said Scarlett. "Bequick, my lass; we shall be called away directly."

  Then Fred had a glimpse of a bonny, little, round-faced lass, with redcheeks and hands, as the bowl was borne away. The straw rustled, andsteps were heard upon the rough loft ladder, to be followed by therattle of a chain, and the creaking of a windlass, Fred seeming to seeall as plainly as if he were there, and watching the girl's actions atthe draw-well in the yard below.

  And all this time the two boys gazed at each other in silence--a silencethat was broken by the splash of water; then there were footsteps on theladder again, and the red-faced lass came back, knelt down behind theinjured lad's head, the kerchief was soaked, and the cool refreshingwater did its work.

  "And we are enemies," thought Fred, with his eyes now closed, and a calmrestful feeling coming over him like the beginning of sleep, from whichhe started, for there was the loud trampling of horses, the jingling ofaccoutrements, and the brazen bray of a trumpet.

  Scarlett started up, shook the water from his hands, snatched up hisbroad-leafed hat, and took his gloves from his belt.

  "Bathe his forehead for a few minutes longer, and
then let him sleep.We shall be back before many hours, but the surgeon will be here beforethen."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And tell your father that General Markham will see that he is paid forall his trouble."

  "Oh, sir," said the girl, "you need not think of that. We'll do ourbest."

  By this time Scarlett was at the door, and Fred had turned his eyestoward him, but he did not look back.

  "Come, Nat," he cried loudly; and his follower stumped over the roughstraw; the steps creaked,