crop his ears, though the shears went very near
them two or three times. But look at him now."

There was a roar of laughter at this, and Fred could hardly keep from
joining in, so comical was the aspect of Sir Godfrey Markham's old
servant, as he stood there with his hands bound behind him.

For, as Samson said, his brother was now quite clean, and he had cut his
hair, which had grown long, in a bad imitation of a Cavalier's. But
this was not merely cut off now, but closely cropped, so that Nat's head
was round and close as a great ball.

"All right, Sam," he said, as his brother came close to him. "Wait a
bit till our side wins, and then perhaps I may take you prisoner, and if
so--"

"Well, if you do--what then?"

"Wait, my lad, and see."

Fred Forrester could never after fully explain his feelings. He left
the group feeling as if some spirit of mischief had taken possession of
him, and kept suggesting that he too had fed his brother, had given up
everything to him, and been reviled for his pains. Why should not he
show Scarlett Markham that courtesy was due to those who had made him
prisoner of war? As it was, his old companion seemed to have grown
arrogant and overbearing. He had spoken to him as if he were a dog, and
looked at him as if he were one of the most contemptible objects under
the sun.

"No," he said, with a half-laugh, "I could not do it."

Then he recalled a long list of injuries he had received from Scarlett,
things which had made his blood boil, and he felt tempted again.

But his better self prevailed the next minute, and, shaking his head, he
returned to his tent, to find that after all Scarlett had partaken of
the food, and had now thrown himself down on Fred's cloak and gone to
sleep.

As he lay there in the dim light, Fred gazed at his old companion's
handsome young face, flowing curls, and soiled but still handsome
uniform, with something like envy. But this passed away; and soon after
he lay down outside the tent, to fall into a fit of musing, which was
mingled with the pace of sentries, hoarse orders, and the blare of
trumpets. Then all was silent, and he fell fast asleep, out there on
the bare ground, only to awaken at the morning calls.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

A LESSON IN SELF-CONTROL.

"You will take twelve men as escort, and guard those prisoners to Newton
Abbott; there you will give them up, and return as quickly as you can to
me."

"Yes, sir. The men need no