Crown and Sceptre Part 95

"You frightened me by being so still."

"I was only thinking, Scarlett," replied Sir G.o.dfrey, sadly--"thinking I was wrong to speak as I did. There, I have fought my best, and it is my turn to lie down. I would we were both prisoners in such good hands."

"Then you consent to my going, father?"

There was another pause before Sir G.o.dfrey said in a low, weary voice--

"Yes, my boy; you must throw yourself upon their mercy. This is no time to nurse one's hatred against one's foes. When shall you start?"

"Directly I can get unseen from the opening, for you must have refreshment, father, and it is absolutely necessary that I should be back to-night."

"Heaven's will be done," said Sir G.o.dfrey, softly; and, after a long firm pressure of the hand, he added, "Be careful, my boy; keep your liberty if you can. The king wants the help of every loyal hand."

"And you will not mind my leaving you?"

"No, my boy. I dare say, in my weak state, I shall pa.s.s many hours in sleep."

Even then Scarlett felt that he could not go, and it was not until long after, when he felt the absolute necessity of obtaining food and help, that he at last tore himself away, but with the one satisfaction of knowing that Sir G.o.dfrey had dropped into a heavy sleep.

It was while he was once more making his way to the opening that Scarlett realised how faint and weak he, too, was. But, summoning all his energy, he stood at last beneath the opening, trying to make out where the sentinel or sentinels might be.

He drew his sword ready for action, and then, with an impatient movement, restored the weapon to its sheath, realising fully that if he was to succeed, it must be by cunning stratagem, not by blows.

All was silent, but the occasional twitter of some bird. If a watcher was there, he gave no sign of his presence, and quite a couple of hours must have pa.s.sed away before, utterly tired out, and hearing not the slightest sound, Scarlett determined to venture so far as to get his head above the top of the opening.

No; he felt that would be only to court seizure, for his position would be so disadvantageous that he could not defend himself if he were seized. Besides, he would be betraying his father into the enemies'

hands.

In spite of his trouble and anxiety, a smile came upon his lip, as he thought of a plan by which he might make the watcher or watchers discover their presence. He believed thoroughly that he had not so far been heard, and, under that impression, he took hold of one of the hazels above his head, and, trusting to old forest recollections in the days when he had hunted rabbits with Fred Forrester, he shook the bough above him so as to make a sharp rustling noise, and uttered with his compressed lips a sharp screeching sound such as is made by the little white-tailed furry denizen of the wood when trapped or chased by a stoat.

"That will bring him to see," thought Scarlett, as he felt that such a sound would suggest to a foraging soldier a capital addition to his camp-fire supper.

But there was not a sound in reply, and, beginning to doubt his belief that there was a sentry watching, he uttered the shrill squeal again.

Then his heart gave a bound, for there was a movement close at hand, as of some one trying to pa.s.s through the bushes, but it was not continued; and, while the lad was wondering, there came a low groan.

"No sentinel! Some poor wounded fellow who has crept into the old wilderness for safety," thought Scarlett.

"But will it be an enemy?" he asked himself.

"No; one of ours," his heart replied. "An enemy would have called for help."

"Ah, if I was only as I used to be!" came in a low-muttering tone. "Is he in agin?"

"Nat!" cried Scarlett, the word starting from his lips involuntarily, and without his seeming to have the power to stay it.

"Eh!" came from close by, "who called? Master Scar, that you?"

"Yes, yes," cried Scarlett; and, leaping up, he caught at a bough, which snapped in two, and he dropped down again. But his next attempt was more successful, for he drew himself out, and the next minute was kneeling by his old follower, as Nat lay nearly hidden among the undergrowth.

"I say, don't play tricks, sir," said Nat, feebly. "I aren't dreaming, are I?"

"Dreaming, Nat?"

"I mean, I've been all in a squabble, with things mixed up in my head, and people talking to me, and rabbits squealing, and Master Scar shouting 'Nat,' I aren't asleep now, are I?"

"Asleep now, Nat? No, no, my dear old fellow," cried Scarlett, whose voice sounded thick with emotion. "But you are badly hurt eh?"

"Well, tidy, Master Scar, tidy. They give it to me pretty well. But I'm better now, dear lad; I'm better now. Oh, oh, I say, Master Scar, lad, hit me in both eyes hard. I'm so weak I'm going to blubber like a gal."

"No, no, my dear old Nat," whispered Scarlett. "Keep up, man, keep up.

I want you to help me."

"Help you, Master Scarlett? Why, I don't believe I could even pull my sword out of its sheath!"

"But you will soon, Nat," whispered Scarlett, eagerly. "I want your help. My father is wounded, and in hiding close by here."

"The master?"

"Yes, yes."

"Sir G.o.dfrey?"

"Yes, yes, Nat; badly wounded. We were nearly burned in the fire, when the Hall was in a blaze; but we got out, and he is badly wounded, and I was going to try and get food."

"Oh, if that's it," said Nat, feebly, "it's time there was an end to all this nonsense. Here, give's a hand, Master Scar. I must get up."

The poor fellow made an effort, then sank back with a groan.

"Pitchforks and skewers!" he muttered. "Didn't that go through one."

"Lie still, Nat."

"Needn't be afraid, Master Scar," groaned the poor fellow, with a comical look in his young master's face. "I don't think I shall get up yet."

"No; lie still. I'm going to try and steal away to the Manor."

"Eh? Then if you come across my brother Samson, you knock him down, sir. Don't you hesitate a moment. Knock him down."

"Nonsense! Now look here."

"Oh yes, sir, I'm a-looking," said Nat, dismally; "and a pretty dirty face you've got."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, it's all black, as if you'd been--"

"Why, Master Scar, what yer been a-doing to your hair?"

"Hair? My hair?"