gerated, swaggering manner, that was galling in the extreme.

"Seem to have starved our horses," said Nat, to one of his fellows; and,
less fall of control than his leader, Samson spoke out.

"No, we haven't, for we've given the poor things a good fill out, such
as they hadn't had for a month; and my word, Nat, you look quite
respectable without those long greasy corkscrews hanging about your
ears." Nat turned upon him fiercely. "Do I?" he cried. "Wait till our
turn comes, and I'll crop you."

"Don't want it," cried Samson, gleeful at his brother's rage.

"Your hair don't, but your ears do, so look out."

"Silence!" cried Fred, sternly; and then he gave the order for all to
mount.

As he was obeyed, and Scarlett swung himself into the saddle, his
nostrils dilated, and as he felt the sturdy horse between his knees, he
involuntarily glanced round at the surrounding country.

Fred saw it, and smiled. "No, sir, not this time," he said. "I think
you will be too well guarded for that."

Scarlett showed that he was well dubbed; for his pale cheeks flushed the
colour of his name as he turned away, feeling hot that his action should
have been plain enough for his enemy to read his thoughts.

Then he set his teeth fast, and they grated together, as he heard Fred's
next orders, and saw a couple of men close up on either side of the
prisoners, thrust a stake beneath their arms and across their backs, to
which stake their arms were firmly bound, and the ends of the cords
which formed their bonds made fast to their horses' necks.

"No fear o' you cantering off, Master Nat," said Samson, as, with keen
appreciation of his masterful position, he tied his brother as tightly
as he could, while Nat resisted and struggled so that he had to be held
by Samson's companion, his steel headpiece falling off in the encounter.
"That's got him, I think," said Samson, tightening the last knot which
held him to the horse. "Dropped your cap, have you? All right, you
shall have it. There!"

A burst of laughter followed Samson's act of politeness, for he had
stuck on the steel jockey-like cap with its peak towards the back, and
the curve, which was meant to protect the back of the head, well down
over his eyes.

"Only wait," grumbled Nat; "I'll save all this up for you."

"Thank ye, Nat. I say, you haven't got a feather in your cap. Anybody
got a feather? No. I've a good mind to cut off his horse's tail for a
plume; the root of