Part 45 (1/2)
”Silence!” cried Fred, sternly; and speaking quite calmly now, though he was quivering with pain, he pressed his horse closely to that upon which his prisoner rode.
”That was a cowardly blow, Scar Markham,” he said, in a whisper. ”I was only doing my duty. You'll ask my pardon yet.”
”Pardon?” raged the lad; ”never! Oh, if I only were free and had my sword, I'd make you beg mine for this indignity. Miserable wretch!
Rebel! I shall live yet to see you and your traitor of a father hung.”
Fred started angrily at this, but he checked himself, reined back his horse, and looking very white now from anger and pain, he gave the word of command. Six of his men formed up in front of the prisoners, the other six took their places behind; swords were drawn, and the horses bearing the prisoners needed no guiding, but in accordance with their training as cavalry mounts, set off in rank as the word ”March!” was given, the young leader waiting till all had pa.s.sed, and then taking his place beside the last two men, one of whom was Samson.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
A COWARDLY REVENGE.
No word was spoken as they crossed the fields that separated them from the road, which they reached by the leading men turning their horses into the rapid stream, and letting them wade for a few yards through the flas.h.i.+ng water knee-deep, and sending the drops foaming and sparkling in the bright morning sun.
”Left,” shouted Fred, as the road was reached, and the next minute the little detachment was trampling up the dust which rose behind them.
”Did it hurt you much, Master Fred?” whispered Samson.
”Hurt me? I felt as if my leg was cut off; and it is just now as if the bone was broken.”
”Perhaps you'd better not go, sir.”
”Not go? I'd go if it was ten times as bad.”
”And what are you going to do to Master Scar?”
”Half kill him some day.”
”Why not to-day, sir? Draw up somewhere in a wood, and we'll all see fair. You can whip him, Master Fred; I know you can. We'll set them free for a bit, and I'll stand by you, and Nat shall stand by his young master.”
”Don't talk nonsense, Samson.”
”'Tisn't nonsense, sir. You nearly always used to whip him when you two fell out, and you're bigger and stronger now.”
”But we are in different positions now, Samson,” said Fred, thoughtfully; ”and it is impossible.”
”Don't say that, sir. The men would like to see you whip him for what he did.”
”No, Samson. It could not be done.”
”You aren't afraid of him, are you, sir?”
”Afraid? How dare you?”
”Oh, I beg pardon, sir. I was only saying so because I thought the men would think you were, for putting up with a crack like that.”
Samson's words stung more deeply than he expected, though he had meant then to rankle, for to his mind nothing would have been more fair or more acceptable than for his young leader to face the Royalist prisoner with nature's weapons, and engage in a regular up and down fight, such as would, he felt sure, result in victory for their side.
They rode on in silence for some time before Samson hazarded another word.