Part 82 (1/2)

Whether started by some smouldering wad, or by a piece of furniture being driven into one of the fire-places, or, as was more probable, by the wilful act of one of the Royalist party, who was determined that the victors should not profit by their success, the Hall was on fire, and the smoke, which rapidly increased in volume, showed that the danger must be great.

”Don't run quite so fast, Master Fred,” panted Samson. ”You can't keep up at that pace. Better take it a bit more coolly.”

There was wisdom in the hurried words, and Fred slackened his speed a little, so as to allow his follower to come alongside; and in this way, taking in the whole proceedings as they ran, they continued their course down the park slope, toward the lake.

There before them in the evening glow was the fine old house, with the dense cloud of smoke slowly rising, and shouts reached them as men were seen running to and fro in obedience to the orders, but what those orders were it was impossible to tell.

In front of the building a strong body of the general's men was drawn up, and in their midst the prisoners stood in a knot, while from time to time hors.e.m.e.n came slowly in, leading other prisoners, who had evidently been captured in efforts to escape.

But though Fred strained his eyes eagerly, the distance kept him from recognising any familiar faces, and a terrible sense of heart-sinking increased as he hurried on.

All at once the thundering of horses' hoofs was heard behind, and a familiar voice shouted Fred's name.

He turned to see that it was his father, who slightly checked his powerful horse as he came up.

”Quick! you two,” he cried; ”lay hold of the mane, and run.”

Fred grasped the idea in an instant, seized the horse's thick mane, and dropped into step as the st.u.r.dy beast trotted on. But the mane was all on Fred's side, and Samson missed his opportunity, but as the horse pa.s.sed on, he made a s.n.a.t.c.h at the tail, twisted his hand in the thick hair, was nearly jerked off his feet, but recovered himself, and held on, improving his position by degrees, and contriving to keep up.

”They must have done this themselves, Fred,” said Colonel Forrester, in a deeply troubled voice. ”Hah! that's right. We must save the place.”

”What are they doing, father?”

”Our men are joining line toward the stable yard, and getting buckets, I think. Hold on tightly.”

”I'm quite right, father,” panted Fred; and he kept up till they reached the men who surrounded the prisoners, and who burst into a cheer as the colonel came up.

Fred's position prevented him from seeing exactly who were numbered among the prisoners, and at that moment the general drew rein at their side.

”You shouldn't have let them fire the place, Hedley,” said Colonel Forrester, in a voice full of reproach.

”It was not our doing, man. Some of their own party started it. There was a fire in the big dining-room. Hangings, chairs, and linen were thrown upon it. The fire blazed up the oak panellings, and the open windows fanned the draft.”

”We must save it. Come on.”

”We are doing everything possible, man; but the water is in a well, and what can we do with three or four buckets?”

”Give me a score of men to try and tear down the burning part,” cried Colonel Forrester, who had leaped from his horse, and thrown the reins to the nearest soldier. ”Here, quick! fifty of you come on.”

He was close up to the porch, from which the men were tearing down the barricade, but the general was bending over him directly.

”Look at me, Forrester,” he said.

The latter gazed up at him sharply, to see that his face was blackened with smoke, and the general's lips parted to speak.

”I stayed in yonder till I was driven out by the fire. It is not safe to go.”

”But we must save the place,” cried the colonel; and he dashed through the opening the men had made, followed by Fred and Samson, a dozen more, including the general, influenced by his friend's example, rus.h.i.+ng after them.

They reached the Hall, but only to find that the flames were literally rus.h.i.+ng out of the great dining-room door, on the one side, and running up the panelled walls, setting the beautiful ceiling ablaze, while from the library, on the other, there was a furnace-like roar, as the flames literally charged up the oaken staircase, whose bal.u.s.ters were already glowing, and the gallery and corridor were fast flaring up as the fire licked and darted and played about.