The next minute Fred had tossed off the heavy steel morion he wore,
throwing it to his follower, who caught it dexterously, and then
followed closely at his leader's heels.

"Master or Captain Scarlett Markham," he said, in a husky voice, "you
have taken advantage of your position as a prisoner to strike me twice
in the presence of my men. It was a cowardly act, for I could not
retaliate."

Scarlett uttered a mocking laugh, which was insolently echoed by his
men.

Fred winced slightly, but he went on--

"All this comes, sir, from the pride and haughtiness consequent upon
your keeping the company of wild, roystering blades, who call themselves
Cavaliers--men without the fear of God before their eyes, and certainly
without love for their country. You must be taught humility, sir."

Scarlett laughed scornfully, and his men again echoed his forced mirth.

"Pride, sir," continued Fred, quietly, "goes with gay trappings, and
silken scarves, and feathered hats. Here, Samson, give this prisoner a
decent headpiece while he is with us."

He snatched off the plumed hat, and tossed it carelessly to his
follower.

"And while you are with us, sir, you must be taught behaviour. You are
too hot-headed, Master Scarlett. You will be better soon."

Scarlett was gazing fiercely and defiantly in his old companion's face,
hot, angry, and flushed, as he felt himself seized by the collar. Then
he sat there as if paralysed, unable to move, stunned, as it were
mentally, in his surprise, and gradually turning as white as Fred as
there were a few rapid snips given with a pair of sheep shears, and
roughly but effectively his glossy ringlets were shorn away, to fall
upon his shoulders.

Then he flung himself back with a cry of rage. But it was too late; the
curls were gone, and he was closely cropped as one of the
Parliamentarian soldiers, while his enemy-guard burst into a roar.

"There, Master Scarlett Markham," said Fred, quietly, "your head will be
cooler now; and you will not be so ready to use your hands against one
whose position makes him unarmed. Samson, the headpiece. Yes, that
will do. Master Scarlett, shall I put it on, as your hands are bound?"

"You coward!" cried Scarlett, hoarsely, as he gazed full in Fred's eyes;
and then again, with his face deadly pale, "You miserable coward! Bah!"

He turned away with a withering look of scorn, and, amid the cheering of
his men, Fred tossed the shears to Samson, and st