Part 44 (1/2)

A LESSON IN SELF-CONTROL.

”You will take twelve men as escort, and guard those prisoners to Newton Abbott; there you will give them up, and return as quickly as you can to me.”

”Yes, sir. The men need not be bound?”

”Yes; every one.”

”Scar Markham, father?”

”Yes; you must run no risks. You might meet a party of the enemy, and if your prisoners fought against you, what then? Let them be bound while on the road. They will have comparative freedom when you have given them up.”

The stern school of war in which Fred Forrester was taking his early lessons of discipline and obedience had already taught him to hear and to obey.

This was after a halt of three days in their temporary camp, during which the careful general of the little army had thought it better to rest and recruit his men than to weary them in a vain pursuit at a time when they were pretty well exhausted with previous work.

Fred had seen a great deal of the prisoners during the time, but only for the estrangement between him and his old companion to grow greater.

For Scarlett was suffering bitterly from the reverses which had befallen his party, and was in agony about his father's fate. He had tried to obtain some news of the division to which they had been attached, but all he could learn was that in the late engagement it had been cut to pieces, and its components who remained had fled in all directions, while he could not discover whether his father had been among the many slain.

Stung by his sufferings, and irritable to a degree, he was in no mood to meet Fred's advances, looking upon him, as he did, as one of his father's murderers, and when he did not give him a fierce look of resentment, he turned his back upon him, and treated him with the greatest scorn and contempt.

Their relations under these circ.u.mstances did not promise well, then, for their journey to Newton Abbott, and matters seemed to culminate for ill when the escort was ready, the prisoners' horses brought out, and Fred announced that the time of departure had come. Scarlett rose from where he had been lying upon his cloak in silence; but the sight of his old companion seemed to rouse him to speak; and in a bitterly contemptuous way he turned to his men, saying to Nat--

”They might have sent a man to take charge of us, my lads.”

Fred winced, and felt small in his military uniform. He bit his lip, and told himself that he would not notice the petty remark, but the words leaped out--

”I dare say I shall be man enough to take you safely to your prison, sir;” but Scarlett turned angrily away.

The prisoners took their cue from their leader, and behaved in an exaggerated, swaggering manner, that was galling in the extreme.

”Seem to have starved our horses,” said Nat, to one of his fellows; and, less full of control than his leader, Samson spoke out.

”No, we haven't, for we've given the poor things a good fill out, such as they hadn't had for a month; and my word, Nat, you look quite respectable without those long greasy corkscrews hanging about your ears.” Nat turned upon him fiercely. ”Do I?” he cried. ”Wait till our turn comes, and I'll crop you.”

”Don't want it,” cried Samson, gleeful at his brother's rage.

”Your hair don't, but your ears do, so look out.”

”Silence!” cried Fred, sternly; and then he gave the order for all to mount.

As he was obeyed, and Scarlett swung himself into the saddle, his nostrils dilated, and as he felt the st.u.r.dy horse between his knees, he involuntarily glanced round at the surrounding country.

Fred saw it, and smiled. ”No, sir, not this time,” he said. ”I think you will be too well guarded for that.”

Scarlett showed that he was well dubbed; for his pale cheeks flushed the colour of his name as he turned away, feeling hot that his action should have been plain enough for his enemy to read his thoughts.

Then he set his teeth fast, and they grated together, as he heard Fred's next orders, and saw a couple of men close up on either side of the prisoners, thrust a stake beneath their arms and across their backs, to which stake their arms were firmly bound, and the ends of the cords which formed their bonds made fast to their horses' necks.

”No fear o' you cantering off, Master Nat,” said Samson, as, with keen appreciation of his masterful position, he tied his brother as tightly as he could, while Nat resisted and struggled so that he had to be held by Samson's companion, his steel headpiece falling off in the encounter.

”That's got him, I think,” said Samson, tightening the last knot which held him to the horse. ”Dropped your cap, have you? All right, you shall have it. There!”