another in your hand?"

"Speak, sir--speak!"

"Very well, sir; here goes. And if you fly in a passion, and do
anything rash to me, it will only be another triumph for my brother
Nat."

"Will you speak, sir?"

"Yes, I'm going to, sir; but one must make a beginning. Well, then,
Master Fred, it's only hearsay, and you know what hearsay is. Some one
heard one of the prisoners say that he saw Sir Godfrey go down wounded,
and young Master Scarlett jump across him, fighting like a madman; and
then people were driven all sorts of ways, but not before there was a
regular burst of fire sweeping along; and they think that Sir Godfrey
and poor Master Scarlett was overtaken by the flames. Master Fred!
Master Fred! don't take on like that. It's only what they say, you
know, dear lad, and it may be all wrong."

The rough fellow laid his hand upon his master's arm, as Fred turned
away.

"But it's what I fear--it's what I fear," he groaned. "And my father
thinks the same; I know he does. Oh, Samson, how horrible! how
horrible! If I only knew who fired the place!"

"Oh, I know that, sir," said Samson. "One of the prisoners boasted
about it--not one of the gentleman Cavaliers, but one of the rough
fellows like me. He says he set the place a-fire in two places, when he
saw the game was up; and he said that it was so as we shouldn't have
comfortable quarters--a mean hound!"

"Poor Scar! poor old Scar!" groaned Fred, walking slowly away, to try
and get somewhere alone with his sorrow, as he thought of his brave,
manly young friend.

He walked on till he was right away down by one of the clumps of trees
at the west end of the lake; and as he groaned again he started, for he
thought he was alone, but Samson had followed him softly.

"Don't 'ee take on, Master Fred, lad. Be a man. I feel as if I should
like to sit down and blubber like a big calf taken away from its mother,
but it won't do, lad, it won't do; we're soldiers now. But if I could
have my way, I'd just get them all together as started this here war,
and make 'em fight it out themselves till there wasn't one left, and
then I'd enjoy myself."

"Don't talk of enjoyment. Samson, my lad."

"But I must, for I just would. I'd go and get the sharpest spade I
could find, and take off my jerkin, and bury what was left of 'em, and
that would be the finest thing that could happen for old England."

"Nonsense, man! You don't understand these things," said Fred, s