my."

"Samson, we can't leave him here, poor fellow! He may die for want of
attention."

"Well, sir, then there'd be one enemy the less."

"Yes. Shall we leave him to die?"

"No, sir; that we won't," said Samson, severely. "We've got to make him
prisoner, taking him up to my quarters, let the doctor make him well,
and then I've got to spend an hour with him, just to set him to rights
and pay him all I owe. Here, you sir, do you know who I am?"

"Yes," said the wounded man, feebly.

"Then look here; you've got to come on my back, and I'm going to carry
you up to the camp."

"Master Fred."

"Yes, my lad."

"Don't let him touch me," whispered Nat. "I couldn't bear to be moved,
sir."

"Not if we carried you gently?"

"No, sir; I feel as if it would kill me. If you could leave me some
bread, sir, and some water, and let me alone, I should get well in time.
I'm only doing what the dogs do, sir, when they're hurt. I've crawled
into a hole, sir, and I shall either die or get well, just the same as
they do."

Fred refused to be convinced, but on trying to raise the poor fellow he
seemed to inflict so much agony that he gave up, and felt disposed to
return to his first ideas of coming to see the poor fellow from time to
time, and giving him food.

"Better, after all, Samson," he said.

"What, leaving him, sir?"

"Yes. You do not want to see him a prisoner?"

"I don't want to see him at all, sir. He has disgraced his family by
fighting against his brother. Did you bring anything to cover him up,
sir?"

"No, Samson, I did not think of that."

"Well, sir, you mustn't let him die," muttered Samson; and there was a
peculiar rasping sound.

"What are you doing?"

"Only getting off my leather coat, sir. Lay that over him. It may rain
again any time, and he might be getting cold."

Fred caught the coat, laid it gently over the wounded man, and he was in
the act of bending down to hear what he whispered by way of thanks, when
there was a sharp report close at hand.

"Quick! An attack," said Fred, excitedly; and the next moment he and
Samson were struggling out of the wilderness, just as shot after shot
ran along the line, as the alarm spread, and directly after the
ear-piercing call rang out on the clear night air, and was echoed again
and again among the distant hills.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

COLONEL FORRESTER IS NOT ANGRY.

It was no easy task to run the gauntlet of the sentinels, now t