Part 80 (1/2)

”Yes, father, it was a vain boast. They dare not insult a messenger.”

”No, my boy, you shall not go,” said Colonel Forrester, laying his hand upon his son's shoulder. ”It would be courting injury for no good purpose.”

”But if it would save Sir G.o.dfrey and poor Scarlett?”

”It would not, Fred.”

”Don't say that, father. If I could see Scar Markham, he would perhaps listen to me; and if he did, he might have as much influence upon Sir G.o.dfrey as I have upon you. Father, let me try.”

”No, Fred, it cannot be,” said the colonel, sternly. ”I am not in command here. The general has sent twice, the second appeal being made through my request, and in each case the answer was an insult.”

”But, father--”

”It is useless, my boy, so say no more. Sir G.o.dfrey brings the a.s.sault on himself. I have done all I can. General Hedley acknowledges it, and you see I have ceased to be the stern officer to you, and have spoken kindly and in the spirit you wish.”

”But one moment, father. Do you think we could persuade Sir G.o.dfrey through Scarlett?”

”No, my boy, and I am afraid I should act precisely the same were I in his place. No more now.”

”But, father, shall I be expected to go forward with the troops?”

”No. I have provided against that, Fred. You and I will not be combatants here.”

”Why, father!” cried Fred, excitedly. ”Look!”

”Yes,” said Colonel Forrester, sadly. ”They have begun. I thought it would not be long. I dreaded being in the general's confidence over this.”

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

WATCHING THE ATTACK.

That which Fred had dreaded had indeed begun, for about a hundred and fifty men had been told off for the attack, and these had prepared themselves by picketing their horses, arming themselves with stout axes for the barricades, and dragging after them stout scaling-ladders.

The advance had seemed to be dilatory before, and the generally received opinion in the camp had been that the defending party, to save risk, was to be starved into submission.

But those who judged did not know the general. He had been waiting his time, for sundry reasons: respect for Colonel Forrester, and mercy, being among these; but now that he found it necessary to adopt strong coercive measures, he was prompt and quick in every step.

Fred Forrester was freed from the terrible necessity of taking part in the attack, but that did not lessen his eagerness to see what would be the result, and in consequence he hurried to the top of the nearest woodland summit, and from thence prepared to witness the issue of the fight.

As he reached the clump of beeches which crowned the hill, he caught sight of the back of some one lying at the very edge of the wood, in the commanding spot he had selected for himself, and where he had often stood to make signs to Scarlett in the old boyish days. For a moment or two he hesitated, and then approached, wondering who it could be, and taking the precaution to draw his sword, for it was not likely to be one of their own men.

It was disconcerting to find any one there, and for the moment he was ready to draw back. But, on the other hand, it might be a spy of the enemy, who had crept up there to watch their proceedings; and under these circ.u.mstances, Fred felt that there were only two courses open to him, flight or bold attack.

To make such an attack in cold blood required consideration. It was not like taking part in an exciting charge, amid the stirring din of battle, when the pulses were bounding, and the bray of the trumpet called them to advance. He, a mere youth, had to go single-handed to an encounter with a great broad-backed fellow, who, at the first brunt, might turn the tables upon him.

”But he is a spy,” said Fred to himself; ”and he is sure to be half afraid;” and without further hesitation, the lad advanced softly, keeping well behind.

As he drew nearer he could see that the man was upon his chest with his arms folded for a support; his morion was tilted back over his ears, so that it covered his neck, and as he watched the advance, he slowly raised first one and then the other leg, crossing them backwards and forwards, and beating the ground with his toes as if they were portions of a pick-axe.

A peculiar feeling of hesitation came over Fred again, and he found himself asking whether he ought not to go down for help, and whether there were any of the man's companions near.