partly from the dash
they had shown, they were nominally raised to the rank of officers, the
men of their troops willingly following the lead of the brave boys who
rode with them into dangers many enough.

For, in those stern times, no father could spare his son. Those who
elected to serve had to run all risks, and the consequence was that on
either side the making of a good fighting army took but little time.

"It do me good to see you, Master Scar," Nat used to say, as he rode
always at his young master's heels. "Think of a boy like you being an
orficer!"

"A very poor one, Nat."

"Nay, Master Scar, I don't know another in the regiment the men would
sooner follow."

Equality of situation brings similarity of remark, and it was in like
words that Samson, after a tirade about his unnatural brother for
fighting against him, would address his young master from the Manor.

And so another six months passed away, with the war-tide setting here
and there on the borders of Coombeland, but never spreading its
devastating influence there. The two lads grew more and more imbued
with the war-faith of their parties, and as they became sturdier and
more manly, hardened as they were by the rough, open air life they led,
a feeling of bitterness foreign to their natures rapidly increased, till
they were ready to speak with hate and contempt of the enemy they blamed
for destroying the peace of the land.

And all this time, to Fred and Scar, home was becoming rapidly a memory.
By the merest chances, they heard that all was well, and, compelled to
be content with this scanty news, they plunged into their work again,
till the roar of cannon and clash of steel became familiar as were the
terrors of the scene of some desperate fight, such as modern soldiers
would speak of as a desultory skirmish.

Eighteen months with the army, and, in spite of exposure, neither of the
Coombeland lads had met, or, as far as they knew, been near each other,
and neither of the two little parties from Hall and Manor had met with a
wound.

But sterner times were near at hand. After much desultory fighting, the
Parliamentary forces were mustering strongly in the far west, and those
of the king had made Bristol a stronghold, and were moving on.

There were two leaders of opposing ideas, who prayed that the war might
not sweep their way, but, as they prayed, they felt that the prayer was
vain, and their brows grew rugged as they read how surely wha