s been
trying to grow like a Cav'lier, and he looks more like a half-fledged
cuckoo."

"Don't waste time in folly. Can you get over to the Manor this
afternoon?"

"Yes, sir, if you get me leave."

"And I will get the caps and cloaks."

"Don't want a donkey, I suppose, sir?"

"No, Samson; we must risk getting our horses there behind the Hall."

"Risky's the name for it, sir."

"Yes; but the poor wounded men cannot walk. We can do it no other way,
and at any cost it must be done."

"Will they shoot us if we're caught, sir?"

"Don't talk about it. Leave the consequences, and act."

"Right, Master Fred; but I hope they won't catch and shoot us for being
traitors."

"Don't call our act by that ugly name."

"Right, sir; but if we are caught and I am shot, you see if my brother
Nat don't laugh."

"Why, man, why?"

"Because he'll say I was such a fool."

"So shall I, Samson, if you talk like that. Now, I cannot ask my father
for leave to go across to the Manor without his questioning me as to why
I wish you to go. You must get leave to go, so do what is necessary and
get off at once."

"Don't you fear about that, Master Fred. And about poor Sir Godfrey,
Master Scar, and that brother of mine? They must be terribly hungry."

"They must wait. We cannot go near them to-day. What we left must do,
and they will be watching the more eagerly for us, all ready?"

"Then you mean it to-night, sir, without fail?"

"Without fail, Samson. Sir Godfrey must be got away to-night."

"Rope, wittles, blankets, and anything they like," said Samson, as he
parted from his master; and after hesitating a little about asking leave
to quit the camp, he came to the conclusion that it would be wiser to
get permission from his officer to fish, and then, after selecting a
spot where the trees overhung the water, steal off through the wood.

This he proceeded to put in force at once, to be met with a stern rebuff
from the officer in question, a sour-looking personage, who refused him
point-blank, and sent Samson to the right-about, scratching his head.

"This is a nice state of affairs, this is!" he grumbled to himself.
"Here's Master Fred, thinking me gone off to carry out his orders, and
I'm shut up like a blackbird in a cage. Whatever shall I do? It's no
use to ask anybody else."

Samson had another scratch at his head, and then another, and all in
vain; he could not scratch any good idea into it or out of it; and