Crown and Sceptre Part 59

And as they rode slowly on, the cavalry halting from time to time to give the infantry opportunities for keeping up and preserving their position in the column, it soon became evident that the Royalists, who had made no sign in their neighbourhood for weeks, must be somewhere near at hand. For the greatest precautions were taken, scouting parties were out, and a regiment of horse formed flankers well away on either side to guard against surprise.

Fred was riding slowly on at a short distance behind his father, thinking with all a convalescent's freedom from fever and pain, of how beautiful everything around seemed to be, and longing to cast aside the trammels of discipline, so as to be a boy in nature once more, as well as in years, when a low voice behind him made him sharply turn his head.

"Don't it seem a pity, Master Fred?"

"Eh? What, Samson?"

"Why, sir, that we should be all riding and walking along here over this moor, thinking about hoeing up and raking down people and mowing 'em off, instead of enjoying ourselves like Christians?"

"Ah, yes," sighed Fred; "it does. It is very beautiful, though, all the same."

"Beautiful, sir? Ah, Master Fred, how I should like to put away my tools--I mean this here sword and pistol--and for you and me to take off our boots and stockings, and wade up yonder stream after the trout."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fred, with his eyes brightening. "Yes."

"Or to go away north, and get out on that there short soft gra.s.s, as always looks as if it had been kept well-mown, out there by the Rill Head, and lie down on our backs, and look at the sun s.h.i.+ning on the sea and s.h.i.+ps a-sailing along, eh, Master Fred?"

"Oh, Samson, Samson, don't talk about it!" sighed Fred, as he gazed right away in imagination at the scene his rough companion painted.

"Can't help it, sir. Feel as if I must. Steady, my lad! you mustn't break away for a gallop. We're soldiers now."

This was to his horse, which felt gra.s.s beneath its feet and the wind blowing, and wanted to be off.

"'Member how the rabbits used to scuttle off up there, Master Fred, and show their white tails as they popped into their holes?"

Fred nodded, and let his reins fall upon his horse's neck.

"And that there hole up in the Rill, sir? 'Member how I come and found your clothes up beside it, and fetched my garden line to fish for your rope?"

"Oh yes, yes, yes!" said Fred, sadly.

"And we never went down that place again, after all, sir. Well, let's hope that we shall some day. I'm getting tired of soldiering, and feel as if it would be a real pleasure to have a mug of our cider again, and pull up a weed."

"I'm afraid I am getting tired of it, too, Samson; but I cannot see the end."

"And on a fine day like this, sir, with the blue sky up above, and the green gra.s.s down below, and the birds singing, it's just lovely. Why, I feel so well and happy this morning that I do believe, if he was here, I could go so far as to shake hands with my brother Nat."

"Why, of course, Samson," said Fred, thoughtfully.

"No," added Samson, "I don't think I could go so far as that."

"And if Scarlett Markham were here," thought Fred, "I believe I could grasp his hand, and be like a brother again, as in the past."

"Wonder where we are going, and whether it means another fight, sir?"

said Samson, after a pause. "Look, sir!--the colonel. Master's waving his hand."

Fred saw the motion, and trotted up to his father's side.

"Fred, my boy, do you know where we are making for?"

"No, father!"

"Home."

"Oh, father!" said Fred, with his pale face flus.h.i.+ng. "I am glad."

"Oh, Fred, my boy," replied his father, seriously, "I am very sorry."

"Sorry, father? Why, we may have a chance to see them all again."

"Yes--perhaps; but we are taking the horrors of war to the abode of peace, my boy."

"Yes," said Fred, thoughtfully. "I did not think of that."

"It was our duty and hope that we might keep the ruin and misery brought by war from our pleasant moors and lanes. Better not see those we love at such a cost."

"Then, don't let's go, father."

Colonel Forrester shook his head.

"A soldier's duty is to obey, Fred. Our general has had his orders, and feels that for military reasons our district will be the most suitable place for intercepting a force which is threatening the west; and our duty is to go."

"Yes, father. But shall we see my mother?"

"I hope not, Fred."

"Oh, father!"

"Not yet awhile, my boy. We must only think of those we love when our duty to our country is done."

They rode on in silence for a time, with Fred picturing, amid the trampling of hoofs and jingle of weapons, the scenes of his boyhood, but to be awakened from his dream by his father's voice.

"Do not talk about our destination. I only tell you, my boy, because it is a matter which interests us both."

"No, father. You may trust me."

"I know that, or I should not speak. Our destination is--"

"Not the Manor, father?"

"No, my boy, the Hall."

Fred sat staring wildly at his father, as bit by bit he grasped what this really meant to these who had always been their nearest friends; and then, bubbling over with excitement, he exclaimed--

"Oh, father, Sir G.o.dfrey will think this is your doing."

"Yes, my boy."