n't talk like that, my lad! I can't forget the past."

"Nor can I, Master Fred. But tell me, lad, Master Scarlett? Don't say
he's dead."

"No, no; I believe he's alive and well," cried Fred, eagerly. And he
saw the poor fellow close his eyes and lie back, with his lips moving as
if he were in prayer.

But he opened them again, and looked round wildly, as if he were
slightly delirious, but as his eyes rested on Fred's face he grew calm,
his lips parted, and he looked earnestly at him who was playing the good
Samaritan where he lay.

"Ah, that seems to put life in me!" he sighed; "but you'll get in
trouble, Master Fred, for helping such a one as me. We're enemies,
don't you see?"

"Wounded men cease to be enemies, Nat," said Fred, bluntly, "so don't
talk about that. You were separated from your master?"

"Yes, sir, with a sword. I don't know whose it was; but it went through
my shoulder and laid open my head."

"Ah, well, don't talk. Drink a little more water, and I'll go and bring
some men with a litter to fetch you away, and you shall be tended
carefully; rest assured of that."

"No, no, Master Fred; let me bide here. How do I know but what Master
Scar will come looking for me with some of our lads. I've been
expecting them every minute, ever since I crawled in among the bushes;
but it seemed a long time, and no one came, and no one--"

He ceased speaking, and lay back fainting.

Fred sprinkled and bathed his face for a few minutes, and then becoming
alarmed at the poor fellow's long-continued swooning, he was about to
get up and run for help, when Nat slowly opened his eyes again and his
lips moved.

"Where's that Samson?" he whispered faintly.

"With my regiment."

"Not hurt badly like me, is he, Master Fred?"

"No; he has escaped wonderfully."

"I'm glad of that, sir, because I shouldn't like for anybody else to
give him his lesson. That's to be my job, as soon as I get better. I'm
going to take him in hand, Master Fred, and weed him. He's full o'
rubbish, and I'm going to make him a better man. A villain! fighting
again his own brother."

"There, Nat, drink a little more water, and eat some of this cake, and
then I'll go and get help to have you carried up to camp."

"What? A prisoner? No, Master Fred. Sooner die where I am, than let
that Samson see me like this, and jump upon me."

"Nonsense! Samson's a good fellow at heart, and as soon as he sees you
in trouble, he'll be o