in all probabilitystill at the Manor, from which duty had kept him absent, even his fatherhaving refrained from going across, though they had had dailyinformation as to Mistress Forrester's welfare. Fred thought then ofhis own position, and all the time he was gazing down into the clearwater, where he could see the bar-sided perch sailing slowly about, andthe great carp and tench heavily wallowing among the lily stems, andsetting the great flat leaves a-quiver as they floated on the surface.Ah, how it all brought back the pleasant old days when he and Scar usedto spend so much time about the water-side!
"I wonder whether he can see me now," he muttered, as he came up to oneof the little patches of woodland, and stood gazing across the lake atthe ivy and bush-grown bank where the secret passage had its opening.
"No; I don't suppose Scar would know me at this distance," he said; andhe took half a dozen steps forward, to be stopped short by the rattle ofarms and a sharp "Halt!"
For the moment Fred thought himself in the presence of one of the enemy,and his hand darted to the hilt of his sword; but he realised directlyafter that it was one of their own men posted there, and he shivered ashe wondered whether the sentry had noted the direction of his gaze.
"Only taking a stroll round, my man," said Fred, as he gave thepassword.
"Not going into the wood, are you, sir?"
"Yes; right on, towards the Hall."
"Better take care, sir. There are some clever marksmen there, and Ishould get into trouble if you were hurt."
"Don't be alarmed," replied Fred, smiling. "I'll take care."
He pushed on, and the sentinel remained at his hidden post, while, as ifhe found a certain pleasure in revisiting the spots familiar to him inthe boyish adventures with his old companion, Fred wandered listlesslyhere and there, meeting sentry after sentry, posted so that the besiegedshould not have an opportunity of getting away, or sending a messengerin search of help.
"And all the time," muttered Fred, "I know how easily a messenger couldbe sent, and help obtained."
He stopped short at last, with his head in a whirl, wondering whichcourse he ought to pursue, as the thought occurred to him that he shouldbe answerable for the injury to his own party if Scarlett did send forassistance, making use of the passage as a means by which he could avoidthe sentries.
"But he would not avoid the sentries, for they would catch the messengerall the same," he cried; "and I am driving myself half crazy aboutnothing, and--What's that?"
He stood listening, for it seemed to him that a low harsh moan had comefrom out of the dark shady woodland near where he stood.
He listened, but there was no further sound, and then he looked round,puzzled for the moment as to where he was. But he recognised certainfeatures in the dense piece of forest directly after, and found that hehad during his musings wandered in and in among the trees till he was inthe old wilderness, close to the great fallen tree where they had madethe discovery of the broken way into the hole.
He turned angrily away, for the thought of the secret passage broughtback his mental struggle, as to which course he ought to pursue, andflight being certainly the easiest, he was about to hurry off, when oncemore the low harsh moan smote his ear.
"Two boughs rubbing together," he muttered, after listening for arepetition of the sound, recalling the while what peculiarly strangenoises two fretting branches would make.
"But there's no wind," he said to himself; and directly after there camethe sharp chirp of a bird, and then the low moan.
It was so unmistakably a cry of pain, that Fred took a few steps forwardamong the dense bushes, and then looked around.
There was nothing visible, but he was not surprised, for he was closenow to the hidden hole down which he had fallen when he made his jump,and crushed through part of the touchwood trunk, and everywhere therewas a dense thicket of undergrowth, through which, after another pause,he forced his way.
Nothing to see--nothing to hear; and he paused again, listeningintently, and bending forward in the direction of the hidden opening, asthe thought struck him that the cry might come from there.
Still, there was no further sound, and feeling convinced that he had hitupon the true source of the noise, and with a shiver of dread runningthrough him as a dozen terrible suggestions offered themselves inconnection with the sound and with Scarlett, he was about to force hisway to the hole and drag away some of the broken branches which they hadheaped there, and which he could now see were intact, and with the fernsand brambles and ivy growing luxuriantly, when a fresh moan met his ear,evidently from quite another direction.
It was with a feeling of relief that he turned from the way to thepassage, and forcing his way on for some little distance, he pausedagain, and listened with almost a superstitious dread, for the soundsheard were in the midst of the gloomy wilderness, where the foot of manrarely trod, and appealed strongly to the superstitious part of theyouth's nature.
In fact, after listening some time, and hearing nothing, theuncomfortable sensation increased, and he began to back away, when thesound was again heard--a harsh, wild, but very subdued cry from quite adifferent direction, thrilling the lad's nerves, and making him turnhastily to flee from the dark precincts.
For it was like no other sound which he had ever heard. No animal orbird could cry like that. The hedgehog, if shut up in a pit, wouldsometimes utter a wild strange noise, which, heard in the darkness, wasstartling as the shriek or hoot of an owl. But it was none of these,and giving way for the moment to ignorant superstition, Fred began toget out of the wilderness as fast as he could, till he stumbled over abriar stretched right across his way, fell heavily, and as he struggledup again, he heard the cry repeated.
"Oh, how I wish some one was here to knock me over!" he mutteredangrily. "What a miserable coward I am!"
And now, fully convinced that some unhappy wounded man had crawled intothe thicket to die, he went sharply back to where he had seemed nearestto the sound, and began to search once more.
It was for some time in vain, and probably he would have had to give upwhat seemed to be a hopeless task, had he not suddenly seen a bramblestrand feebly thrust aside, and the point of a rusty sword directedtoward him.
He drew his own weapon, and beat the rusty blade away, hacking through afew bramble strands, and there, deep down in a tunnel of strands andboughs, was the ghastly blood-besmeared countenance of a man, withhollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and a look of weakness that stronglyresembled that which, to his sorrow, he had so often seen upon the fieldof battle.
The wretched man seemed to make an effort to raise his rusty swordagain, but it fell from his grasp, and he lay staring wildly at hisfinder.
"Who are you? How came you here?" began Fred, involuntarily, though hefelt that he knew; and then, with a cry of surprise and horror, hedropped upon his knees beside the wounded man. "Nat, my poor fellow,"he cried, "is it you?"
The man looked at him wildly for a few moments, as if he were dreaming,before the light of recognition came into his sunken eyes.
"Master Fred!" he whispered. "You? That's right. Put me out of mymisery at once."
"Are you wounded?"
"Water--for Heaven's sake, water!"
Fred started up.
Water? How could he get water?
The lake was close at hand, if he could reach it unseen, for he shrankfrom calling help, which meant condemning the poor fellow to aprisoner's life as soon as he grew better. So, forcing his way along ascautiously as he could, he contrived to reach one of the trees whoseboughs overhung the lake, and taking advantage of the shelter, he laydown upon his chest, grasped a stout hazel, lowered himself to where hecould reach the surface, where he took off his steel morion, dipped itfull, and rose carefully to bear the refreshing fluid to the sufferingman.
It was not an easy task, for the undergrowth seemed to be more tangledthan ever; but by stepping cautiously, he managed to bear almost everydrop, and kneeling down, he gave the poor fellow a little at a time, anappealing look in the su
fferer's eyes seeming to ask for more and more.
"Can you speak, Nat?" Fred said at last, as the man lay back with hiseyes closed, and without opening them he softly bent his head.
"Are you wounded?"
"Yes; badly," came in a faint whisper.
"You were hurt at the last encounter?"
"Yes, and crawled here. Water!"
Fred administered more, every drop seeming delicious to the fevered lipsof the wounded man.
Just then Fred remembered that he had a little bread in the wallet athis side; and breaking it up, he soaked a small piece in the water, andplaced it between poor Nat's lips.
This was eaten, and a few more scraps, the refreshment seeming to revivethe sufferer wonderfully, and he looked up now in Fred's eyes, as hewhispered faintly--
"I was