Part 51 (1/2)
”Samson!”
”Yes, sir.”
There was a pause, and Fred's henchman rose painfully on one arm to try and make out the reason of the silence, but he could only see that the young officer was staring at the window.
”Poor boy!” said Samson to himself. ”Seems hard for him to be made into a soldier at his time o' life. Ought to be at school instead of wearing a sword.”
”Yes, sir,” he said aloud.
”Yes?”
”You called me, sir.”
”Did I?” said Fred, vacantly.
”Yes, sir; you said 'Samson.'”
”Oh yes, I remember. Did you see much of the fight, Samson?”
”As much as any one could for the dark.”
”We were attacked front and rear, weren't we?”
”That's it, sir. Trapped.”
”It was all my fault, I suppose,” said Fred, with a sigh.
”Fault, sir; not it. n.o.body's fault. People can't do impossibilities.
Why, there was sixty-five of 'em in the troop, and of course they regularly rode us down!”
”But you did see something of the fighting?”
”To be sure I did, sir.”
”Did--did I disgrace myself, Samson?”
”Did you what yourself, sir? Come, I like that! If digging your spurs into your horse, and shouting to us to come on, and then going to work with your sword as if it was a scythe, and the pleasaunce hadn't been cut for a month in June's disgracing yourself, why, I suppose you did!”
”Then I did fight?”
”Fight! I should think you aid.”
”Like a man, Samson--like an officer should?”
”Why, of course you did, sir!”
”As my father would have liked to see me fight, if he had been there?”
”Well, sir, that question's a puzzler. You see, fathers is fathers, and, as far as ever I've been able to find out, they don't like their boys to fight. Why, my father was always giving me and Nat the strap for fighting, because we was always at it--strap as he wore round his waist, when he wasn't banging our heads together. You see, Nat was always at me, and knocking me about. We never did agree; but our old man wouldn't let us fight, and I don't believe your father would have liked to see you trying to cut people's heads off with that sword of yours.”