he outside of the camp with his
father as the prisoner was brought in, and as soon as he saw who it was,
the colour flushed to his face, and he felt that it was all over, and
that he would have to confess.

"How now, sir!" cried the colonel. "You?"

"Yes, sir. I was only stretching my legs a bit, and this man tried to
run me down."

"Are you the man reported by the sentry as trying to desert?"

"Me trying to desert, sir!" cried Samson, indignantly. "Do I look the
sort o' man likely to desert, colonel, unless it was to get a good
draught o' cider?"

"But you were out of bounds, sir."

"Father," began Fred, who was in agony, "let me--"

"Silence, sir! He is a soldier now, and must be treated as a soldier."

"Yes; don't you say nothing about me, Master Fred, sir. I can bear all
I get."

"Go back to your quarters, sir. You are under arrest, mind, I will deal
with you to-morrow."

Samson gave Fred a meaning look as he was marched off, and Fred's agony
of spirit increased as he asked himself whether he ought not to confide
in his father. A dozen times over he was about to speak, but only to
hesitate, for he knew that the colonel would sacrifice his friend on the
altar of duty, even if he had to sacrifice himself.

"I must save them," muttered Fred, as he went slowly back to his tent.
"I am not firm and stern like my father;" and then, as soon as he was
alone, he sat down to think of how he was to contrive the escape unaided
and alone.

Night came, with his mind still vacillating, for he could see no way out
of his difficulty, and, to render his position more difficult, the
colonel came to his tent and sat till long after dark chatting about the
likelihood of the war coming to an end, and their prospects of once more
settling down at the home whose open doors were so near.

"And the Royalists, father? What of them?" said Fred at last.

"Exiles, I fear, my boy, for their cause is lost. They must suffer, as
we must have suffered, had our side gone to the wall."

"Father," said Fred, "if you could help a suffering enemy now, would you
do it?"

"If it was such help as my duty would allow--yes; if not, no.
Recollect, we are not our own masters, but servants of the country.
Good night, my boy. I think you may sleep in peace to-night;" and he
strode out of the little tent, where his seat had been a horseman's
cloak thrown over a box.

"Sleep!" said Fred to himself, "with those poor fellows starving in