Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story

accompanied by the rustling ofbranches and the sharp tearing noise made by thorns. "Yes; here weare."

  Samson followed closely, with his arms outstretched, and in a minute ortwo he heard a sound which made him bend down to feel that Fred waskneeling, and the next moment talking to some one prostrate there in thedarkness.

  "Well, how are you?"

  "Is that you, Master Fred?" came in a husky whisper, which made Samsonstart.

  "Yes; I've brought you some bread and wine. How are the wounds?"

  "Don't give me much pain, sir, now."

  "Master Fred."

  "Well?"

  "Who's that?"

  "Can't you hear, Samson? Your brother Nat."

  There was utter silence for a minute, during which it seemed as ifSamson was holding his breath, for at the end of that pause, he gavevent to a low hissing sound, which continued till it seemed wonderfulthat the man should have been able to retain so much air.

  "Drink some of this," Samson heard Fred whisper; and there was thepeculiar gurgling sound as of liquid escaping from a bottle, followed byanother whisper bidding the sufferer eat.

  "Look here, Master Fred," said Samson, as soon as he had sufficientlyrecovered from his surprise to speak.

  "What is it?"

  "Do you know who it is you're talking to there in the dark?"

  "Yes; your brother Nat."

  Samson remained silent and motionless as one of the trees for a minute.Then he caught Fred by the shoulder.

  "What is it, Samson? Do you hear any one?"

  "No, sir; I was only thinking about what I ought to do now. Just standaside, and let me come."

  "What for?"

  "Well, sir, that's what I don't know. Ought I to--? You see, he's anenemy."

  "Samson, we can't leave him here, poor fellow! He may die for want ofattention."

  "Well, sir, then there'd be one enemy the less."

  "Yes. Shall we leave him to die?"

  "No, sir; that we won't," said Samson, severely. "We've got to make himprisoner, taking him up to my quarters, let the doctor make him well,and then I've got to spend an hour with him, just to set him to rightsand pay him all I owe. Here, you sir, do you know who I am?"

  "Yes," said the wounded man, feebly.

  "Then look here; you've got to come on my back, and I'm going to carryyou up to the camp."

  "Master Fred."

  "Yes, my lad."

  "Don't let him touch me," whispered Nat. "I couldn't bear to be moved,sir."

  "Not if we carried you gently?"

  "No, sir; I feel as if it would kill me. If you could leave me somebread, sir, and some water, and let me alone, I should get well in time.I'm only doing what the dogs do, sir, when they're hurt. I've crawledinto a hole, sir, and I shall either die or get well, just the same asthey do."

  Fred refused to be convinced, but on trying to raise the poor fellow heseemed to inflict so much agony that he gave up, and felt disposed toreturn to his first ideas of coming to see the poor fellow from time totime, and giving him food.

  "Better, after all, Samson," he said.

  "What, leaving him, sir?"

  "Yes. You do not want to see him a prisoner?"

  "I don't want to see him at all, sir. He has disgraced his family byfighting against his brother. Did you bring anything to cover him up,sir?"

  "No, Samson, I did not think of that."

  "Well, sir, you mustn't let him die," muttered Samson; and there was apeculiar rasping sound.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Only getting off my leather coat, sir. Lay that over him. It may rainagain any time, and he might be getting cold."

  Fred caught the coat, laid it gently over the wounded man, and he was inthe act of bending down to hear what he whispered by way of thanks, whenthere was a sharp report close at hand.

  "Quick! An attack," said Fred, excitedly; and the next moment he andSamson were struggling out of the wilderness, just as shot after shotran along the line, as the alarm spread, and directly after theear-piercing call rang out on the clear night air, and was echoed againand again among the distant hills.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

  COLONEL FORRESTER IS NOT ANGRY.

  It was no easy task to run the gauntlet of the sentinels, now that thealarm had spread, for they were falling back upon the camp, and twiceover Fred was challenged, and had to run the risk of a bullet; butpartly by knowing the ground far better than those who challenged, andpartly from the darkness, the pair succeeded in reaching the littlecamp, to find all in commotion, horses saddled, men ready to mount, andan intense desire existent to know from which side to expect the attack.

  After a time the hurry and excitement quieted down, for after scouts andpatrols had done their work, the whole alarm was traced to one of thesentinels, who had heard whispering in the wood near which he wasstationed, and had fired at once, his nearest fellow having taken up thesignal, fired, and slowly fallen back.

  "Better too much on the _qui vive_ than too drowsy," said the general,at last, good-humouredly. "I was afraid, Forrester, it was an attempton the part of the enemy to escape."

  "And we could clear it all up with a word, Samson," said Fred, who wasfull of self-reproach.

  "But don't you speak it, Master Fred," whispered Samson, who hadcontrived to get another jerkin. "If you tell, they'll go down to thewood, and find that brother of mine, and bring him in, and here he'll belying in clover, and doctored up, and enjoying himself, while poor weare slaving about in sunshine and rain, and often not getting anythingto eat, or a rag to cover us."

  "I shall not speak, Samson, for there was no harm done," said Fred,quietly; "but I wonder at your covering your enemy from the cold."

  "Needn't wonder, sir. Didn't I always cover my tender plants from thecold? It wasn't because I liked them, but so as they'd be usefulby-and-by. My brother Nat will be useful by-and-by. I want him. Ishall give him such a lesson one of these days as shall make him ashamedof himself."

  A trumpet rang out again on the night air, and men dismounted, picketedtheir horses once more, and some lay down to snatch a few hours' rest,while others sat together talking and asking one another questions aboutthe attack they foresaw would most probably take place that day, for thenight was waning, and they knew that before long the dawn would beshowing in the east, and that it would be morn; while, in spite ofplenty of sturdy courage and indifference to danger, there were menthere who could not refrain from asking themselves whether they wouldlive to see the next day.

  It was somewhere about sunrise when Fred fell asleep, to dream of beingin the dense thicket, carrying Nat, the Hall gardener, on his back tothe hole broken through into the secret passage, where he threw himdown, and covered him up with bushes to be out of the way till he gotbetter; but, as fast as he threw him down, he came back again,rebounding like a bladder, till Samson came to his help, drew his sword,and pricked him, when he sank down to the bottom and lay still. ThenScarlett seemed to come out of the hole and reproach him for being acoward and a rebel, seizing him at last and shaking him severely, andall the while, though he struggled hard, he could not free himself fromhis grasp. So tight was his hold that he felt helpless and halfstrangled, the painful sensation of inability to move increasing till heseemed to make one terrible effort, seized the hands which held him,looked fiercely in his assailant's eyes, and exclaimed, "Coward,yourself!"

  "Well, sir, dare say I am," was the reply; "but what can you expect of aman when you take him out of his garden and make a soldier of him all atonce."

  "Samson!"

  "Yes, sir. Breakfast's ready, sir, such as it is. What's the matterwith you? I never had such a job to waken you before."

  "I--I was very sound asleep," stammered Fred, rising hastily. "Did--didI say anything?"

  "Pitched an ugly word at my head about not being so brave as you thoughtI ought to be, that's all."

  "Don't take any notice of what I said, I must have been dreaming."

  "Th
at's what I often wake up and feel I've been doing," said Samson. "Ioften don't know whether I'm on my head or my heels; it seems sostrange. Wonder how that Nat is. He always gets the best of it. Lyingthere with nothing to do. Just his way, sir, curling himself up snug,and letting other people do his work. There you are, sir, bucket ofclean water from the lake. Have a good wash, and you'll feel like a newman. What a difference it must make to you, sir, dressing yourself outhere, after having your comfortable room at home, and you so near it,too. Why, sir, the