this! 'Memberthat one as come out of the wood shed as we went in last winter? Alwaysscares me."
"I dare say it scares them more than it does us," whispered back Fred."Now don't speak."
"Right, sir."
Fred led on, moving more by instinct than sight, and seeming to feelwhich was the way to the spot where they had left the injured man; butit was a long and arduous task, and not till after he had gone astraythree times did he pause in perplexity.
"If I could get any idea of where the Hall lay, perhaps I could findhim," whispered Fred; "but we have turned about so, that I don't knowwhich way we are looking now."
"More don't I, sir; for aught I know we might be somewhere hundreds ofmiles away. It's so plaguey dark."
"Look! Isn't that the reflection of the fire?"
"No, sir; there's nothing there. Ah, look there!"
A dull low sound fell upon their ears, and simultaneously there was aflash of light in quite a different direction to that in which they hadbeen straining their eyes.
"What's that, sir?"
"Some part of the Hall fallen in."
"And made the fire flash up just as it does when you're burning rubbish.That's right, sir."
"Yes; and I can find it now," whispered Fred.
The struggle through the undergrowth was resumed, every step having tobe taken with the greatest caution; and at last, after making endlessdiversions to avoid tree-trunks and masses of tangled growth that theycould not force their way through, Fred stopped short.
"What is it, sir?"
"This is the place."
"No, sir, I don't think it is."
"Yes; I can tell by the touch. I am close up to the fallen tree.There, I can feel the touchwood. Be quiet. Hist! Nat! Nat!"
There was no reply, and after a pause, Fred called again, as loudly ashe dared.
"No, sir; I thought it wasn't," said Samson, softly. "It's further up."
"Be silent, man," said Fred, impatiently. "I am sure we are right. Itmay be a little to the left or a little to the right, but its closehere."
He called again and again softly, but without result.
"Let me try, Master Fred, as you are so sure."
Fred gave his consent, whispering to his companion to be careful.
"Nobody won't take any notice of what I do, Master Fred," whisperedSamson. "I'll give him an old cry we used to have on the moor, when wewere boys;" and directly after, sounding distant and strange, and as ifit could not possibly have been given by his companion, there rang out apeculiar low piping whistle, followed by a short jerky note or two.
"That's oyster-catcher, Master Fred, as you well know. If he hears thathe'll answer and know it's friends--I mean enemies."
Fred made no reply to his follower's paradoxical speech, but listenedintently.
"Again," he said, after a time; and the cry rang out, to be followed bya dull thud as of footsteps, and a clink of steel against steel.
Fred felt his arm grasped, and Samson's hot breath in his ear.
"Keep quiet. There's a sentry close by, and they're going the rounds."
The dull sound of footsteps died away, and not till then did Samsonventure upon another call, that proved to be as unavailing as thosewhich had preceded it.
"P'raps he's asleep," said Samson, softly; "but that ought to haveroused him."
Fred drew a long breath, as in imagination he saw the poor woundedfellow lying there in the dark and cold; and as a chilly perspirationbedewed his face, he felt a horrible feeling of reproach for not havinggiven notice of an injured man lying in the wood. For he told himself,and the thought gathered strength, that perhaps they had come too late.
For a few minutes he could not speak, and when he did, his heart wasbeating heavily, as he whispered--
"Samson, do you think--?"
He could not finish the terrible sentence, one which his companionmisconstrued.
"Of course I do, sir. I told you so. This aren't the place, I'm sure."
"It is! it is!" said Fred, with passionate energy, "Here, I am touchingthe old tree; and, yes--I know. Here is the place where he must belying."
"Very well, then, sir, stoop down and lay hold of his leg gently, andgive it a pull. Be on the look-out, for he can be very nasty at beingwoke up. Maybe he'll kick out. He used to when we were boys."
Fred felt dizzy as he listened to his companion's careless utterance,and he asked himself whether he should tell him what he thought. Twiceover he was on the point of speaking, but he clung to the hope that hisideas might be only fancy, and he stood there turning icily cold.
The idea seemed so terrible--to stoop down there in that utter darknessand touch the form of the poor fellow who had been left in despair andloneliness to die, untended and without a soul to whom he could say afarewell word. No; he could not do it, and he felt as if he must turnand rush out of the wood.
"Feel him, Master Fred?" whispered Samson.
Again the sensation of cold and dread came over Fred, and he was aboutto yield to it and hurry away, when his determination mastered, and,setting his teeth fast, he bent down, went upon hands and knees, andfelt on before him, letting his hand sink slowly so as to reverentlytouch him who he felt must be lying dead.
"Well, sir--got him?"
"No!" whispered Fred, hoarsely, as his hand touched the twigs andleaves.
"Try again, sir."
Fred crept on, and again stretched out his hand.
"Now you have him, sir?"
"No," said Fred, with a throb of excitement sending a thrill throughhim; "he is not here."
"There, what did I tell you!" said Samson, in a satisfied tone. "Youwould be so obstinate. This aren't the place."
"But it is," whispered Fred. "I can feel where he laid. The twigs areall levelled down."
"Nonsense, sir!"
"I tell you I am right; it's the hole he made for himself. This is theplace, and--Hah!"
"Got him?"
"No; but here is your jerkin that you left to cover him."
"Then you are right, sir. Well, feel about more."
"I cannot get any further. This is the place, and he has either beenfound, or he has crept away, and--Yes, that's it; he hasn't had strengthto creep back."
"Then we must call again."
"Yes."
Samson repeated his cry, over and over again, without result, and then,Fred having rejoined him, they stood listening.
"We cannot find him to-night, Samson."
"No, sir. Well, it doesn't much matter. He's ever so much better, orhe wouldn't have gone out for a walk. Here, let's sit down and eat thishere bread and chicken, and drink the cider, sir. I feel as if I hadn'thad anything for a week, and the food has been bumping about my lips andasking to go in ever since we started. I'm glad now I brought it, butI've been sorry I was so stupid all along."
"Do you think we could find him if we searched?" said Fred, ignoring hiscompanion's remark about the food.
"Sure we couldn't, sir, without a lanthorn; and if we had one wedurstn't use it. Let's set down and have a bite."
"No, no. Look here! If he has crept away, he is sleeping somewhere notfar off, and he is sure to come back. Give me the food, and I'll lay itin there ready for him. He'll find it when it's light."
"Put it there, sir?"
"Yes."
"But the slugs and snails and beetles and things 'll come and eat it allbefore morning. Don't let's waste good food, sir, like that."
"Do as I bid you, sir. Give me the food."
Samson sighed and obeyed. The bread and fowl were placed with thebottle on the jerkin at the far end of the little tunnel where Nat hadlain, and Fred backed out.
"Come," he said laconically.
Samson grunted dismally, and followed his leader; and after they hadstruggled out of the wilderness, they made their way back to campwithout any further check than a challenge or two, the password enablingthem to reach the tent not long before morning dawned.
&nbs
p; CHAPTER FORTY TWO.
BAITING A TRAP.
"Yes, my boy; sad, sad indeed," said Colonel Forrester. "I would havegiven anything to have prevented it."
Father and son were walking round the ruins of the Hall, which werestill too heated to allow of approach, while from the heap of _debris_within a thin filmy smoke arose.
"Do you think there is any hope, father?" said Fred, after a long pause.
Colonel Forrester looked at him quickly.
"I mean of Sir