the straw, was Scarlett Markham, his buff
gauntlet gloves thrust in his sword-belt, his cavalier hat cast aside,
and his brow knit and glistening with perspiration, as he kept on
dipping a white kerchief in a bowl of cold water held by some one at the
back, and carefully bathed Fred's forehead.

How cool and delightful that water felt as the kerchief was opened out,
and spread right across the brow from temple to temple! Then how hot it
grew, till it was softly removed, to be resoaked and applied once more
with all the tender solicitude that would have been shown by a woman.

Fred wanted to speak, but no words would come; he could only lie there,
with his breast heaving, as he watched the calmly stern, handsome face
bending over him, and thought of the past--their old boyish friendship,
the delightful days when they frolicked in the park; and fished, and
sought for plovers' eggs on the moor. How short a time ago it seemed,
and now they were acting the parts of men fighting on either side in the
terrible civil war which was devastating old England; enemies--deadly
enemies, and Scarlett Markham was pouring coals of fire upon his head.

"Shall I fetch some more water, sir? This is getting quite warm," said
a pleasant voice.

"Yes, I was going to ask you to get some more," said Scarlett. "Be
quick, my lass; we shall be called away directly."

Then Fred had a glimpse of a bonny, little, round-faced lass, with red
cheeks and hands, as the bowl was borne away. The straw rustled, and
steps were heard upon the rough loft ladder, to be followed by the
rattle of a chain, and the creaking of a windlass, Fred seeming to see
all as plainly as if he were there, and watching the girl's actions at
the draw-well in the yard below.

And all this time the two boys gazed at each other in silence--a silence
that was broken by the splash of water; then there were footsteps on the
ladder again, and the red-faced lass came back, knelt down behind the
injured lad's head, the kerchief was soaked, and the cool refreshing
water did its work.

"And we are enemies," thought Fred, with his eyes now closed, and a calm
restful feeling coming over him like the beginning of sleep, from which
he started, for there was the loud trampling of horses, the jingling of
accoutrements, and the brazen bray of a trumpet.

Scarlett started up, shook the water from his hands, snatched up his
broad-leafed hat, and took his gloves from his belt.

"Bathe