leep now, Nat? No, no, my dear old fellow," cried Scarlett, whose
voice sounded thick with emotion. "But you are badly hurt eh?"

"Well, tidy, Master Scar, tidy. They give it to me pretty well. But
I'm better now, dear lad; I'm better now. Oh, oh, I say, Master Scar,
lad, hit me in both eyes hard. I'm so weak I'm going to blubber like a
gal."

"No, no, my dear old Nat," whispered Scarlett. "Keep up, man, keep up.
I want you to help me."

"Help you, Master Scarlett? Why, I don't believe I could even pull my
sword out of its sheath!"

"But you will soon, Nat," whispered Scarlett, eagerly. "I want your
help. My father is wounded, and in hiding close by here."

"The master?"

"Yes, yes."

"Sir Godfrey?"

"Yes, yes, Nat; badly wounded. We were nearly burned in the fire, when
the Hall was in a blaze; but we got out, and he is badly wounded, and I
was going to try and get food."

"Oh, if that's it," said Nat, feebly, "it's time there was an end to all
this nonsense. Here, give's a hand, Master Scar. I must get up."

The poor fellow made an effort, then sank back with a groan.

"Pitchforks and skewers!" he muttered. "Didn't that go through one."

"Lie still, Nat."

"Needn't be afraid, Master Scar," groaned the poor fellow, with a
comical look in his young master's face. "I don't think I shall get up
yet."

"No; lie still. I'm going to try and steal away to the Manor."

"Eh? Then if you come across my brother Samson, you knock him down,
sir. Don't you hesitate a moment. Knock him down."

"Nonsense! Now look here."

"Oh yes, sir, I'm a-looking," said Nat, dismally; "and a pretty dirty
face you've got."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, it's all black, as if you'd been--"

"Why, Master Scar, what yer been a-doing to your hair?"

"Hair? My hair?"

"Yes, sir. Them Roundhead vagabonds cut it all off before, but now it's
all scorched and singed away."

"Eh? Yes. I suppose so," said Scarlett, sadly. "I did not know, Nat.
I suppose it was in the fire."

"And your face all scorched too."

"Is it, Nat? I did feel that it smarted and was sore."

"Why, my poor dear lad, what have you been a-doing of? And me not with
you, but lying here like a pig in a sunny hole, pretending I was bad!"

"Hush! not so loud. Never mind the singeing, Nat. There, keep quiet
till I come back with some food. Do you want a drink of water?"

"Food? What did you say about some food?"

"I'm going to try