od-bye, and good luck go with you, though you are a Roundhead. Think
better of it; let your hair grow, and then come and ask for Harry Grey.
I shall have a regiment again some day, and I shall be proud to have you
at my side."

The words were so frankly and honestly said that Fred's eyes brightened,
and passing the pike-shaft into his bridle hand, he raised his steel cap
to the Cavalier, replaced it, and rode off, while the Royalist officer
turned to Scarlett.

"As frank and sturdy a boy as I have ever met, excepting you, Scarlett
Markham, of course," he added, as merrily as if there were no danger
near.

"Yes, he's as true as steel," said Scarlett, flushing. "He always was."

"You know him?"

"It's Fred Forrester, Colonel Forrester's son, from the Manor. We were
companions till the war broke out."

"Three cheers for bonnie Coombeland and its boys," said the Cavalier.
"Why, Scarlett, my lad, we shall have to get him away from these
wretched rebels. Can't it be done?"

"No," said Scarlett, gravely. "Fred is too staunch and true."

And staunchly enough, Fred, with his trumpeter behind, was riding back
to camp with his message, which he delivered to General Hedley and his
father.

There was a pause after he had done, and the general sat gazing straight
before him.

"Well, Forrester," he said at last, "I have done my duty so far, and I
must go on. We cannot leave this little nest of hornets in our rear to
act as a point to which other insects will gather for the destruction of
those who are fighting for their homes. It is of no use to give them
time."

"No," said Colonel Forrester, sternly. "I agree with you. They must
fall, or be taken to a man."

"And their blood be upon their own heads."

"Amen," said Colonel Forrester, in a deep voice; and as Fred glanced at
him he saw that he was very pale, while a cold chill of dread ran
through the lad's veins as, in imagination, he seemed to see stout,
handsome Sir Godfrey Markham borne down by numbers, with Scarlett making
frantic efforts to save him; and then all seemed to be dark--a darkness
which hung over his spirit, so that he led his horse mechanically to the
improvised stabling beneath the trees, seeing nothing, hearing nothing,
till a voice said--

"No, no, Master Fred, I'll see to your horse;" and he turned and found
Samson there, and this set him thinking about poor Nat lying helpless in
the wood.

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

SAMSON VISITS HI