Part 92 (1/2)

”Yes, sir,” said Samson; ”and we've left our rods by the lake. We're going down again by-and-by to see if there is a bite.”

The officer nodded, laughed at them, and went on.

”You let your tongue run too freely,” said Fred, angrily.

”Well, sir, you wouldn't speak; and it's quite true. When shall we go down and see if we've got a bite?”

”This evening,” said Fred, shortly; and they went back to the camp to stay a few hours, and then get leave to go down again, making their way round the east end of the lake, up through the scattered woodland to the old patch of forest, and then in and out till they gained the broken-in entrance hidden by the dead blanches of the oak.

”It's all right, sir,” said Samson, drily, as he caught sight of the opening at the same time as his master.

Yes: it was all right; for the bait Samson had placed there to test the presence of his brother was gone.

”Samson,” whispered Fred, ”this is our secret. I want to be loyal to my party; but I feel as if I must help these poor fellows.”

”That's very sad, sir,” replied Samson; ”and I feel as if I ought to go and fetch a dozen of our men to search this place; but whatever you tell me to do, I shall do--that is to say, so long as you don't ask me and Nat to make it up.”

”I will not ask you, Samson,” said Fred; ”I'll leave you to ask me if you may.”

CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

THROUGH THE FIRE.

That fight within the Hall was more desperate than Fred had imagined, for until overpowered by numbers, Sir G.o.dfrey, his son, and the brave and reckless Cavaliers by whom he had been surrounded, had fought in a manner that kept their enemies at bay.

In the rush and noise and confusion of the struggle, Sir G.o.dfrey had not at first noticed the smoke, and when he did he was under the impression that it was merely the result of the firing, and caused by the heavy powder of the period. It was not until the flames had gained a hold on either side that he realised the truth; and when it did come home to him, he had staggered forward to strike at a couple of the many enemies by whom he was surrounded, and whose swords had wounded him severely in four places.

That blow was the last he could give, for, faint from loss of blood, the effort was too great; he overreached himself, stumbled and fell p.r.o.ne upon the polished floor. The moment before, his enemies were retiring, but at the sight of the fallen officer one of the men raised a joyous shout, and half a dozen charged back to make him prisoner.

It was at that moment Scarlett saw the great danger, and boy as he was, rushed to the rescue, striking out boldly as he leaped across his father, and keeping the enemy at bay.

The odds were absurd, and the men were only kept back by the suddenness and dash of the youth's attack. Then, with a laugh of derision, they were about to seize both, when a warning shout reached them, and they rushed away to avoid the onslaught of the terrible enemy against which their weapons were of no avail.

Scarlett saw the danger, and cowered down over his father as a wave of flame was wafted above their heads, fortunately for them a current of air keeping off the next just long enough for him to seize Sir G.o.dfrey by the wrists and drag him back into the centre of the hall, the polished boards rendering the task an easy one.

”Escape, Scarlett. I am spent,” said Sir G.o.dfrey, faintly.

”What! and leave you, father?” cried Scarlett, excitedly.

”Yes. You cannot get away here for the fire. Run upstairs, my boy, quick--leap from one of the windows.”

”If you will come with me, father,” said Scarlett.

”No, no, my boy; I am helpless. Make haste. The fire--for Heaven's sake, make haste!”

The flames and their accompanying suffocating fumes advanced so fast that for the moment the terrible peril unnerved Scarlett. The natural inclination was to flee, and he received an additional impulse from his father's words, which in their tone of urgent command made him dash half-way up the broad staircase before he checked himself, turned sharply, with one bound leaped down again to the floor, and ran to Sir G.o.dfrey's side.

”Father, I can't leave you to be burned to death,” he cried. ”It is too horrible.”

”Horrible? Yes,” panted the wounded man; ”but I can do nothing, my boy; and you--you are so young. The poor old Hall--the poor old Hall!”