Chapter 12. The Colonel's Message

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_ CHAPTER TWELVE. THE COLONEL'S MESSAGE

No farther visit was paid to the passage that day; but the next, in the afternoon, the boys made their way down toward the lake, and met Nat, who approached them with rather a mysterious look on his face.

"What's the matter?" asked Scarlett.

"Ah, that's what I want to know, sir. You didn't hear it, of course, because you were out in the boat."

"Hear what?"

"Oh, I don't know, sir," said the gardener, mysteriously. "I've just come from the kitchen, where the servants was talking about it."

"About what?"

"It, sir, it; I don't know what it is. I told 'em it was howls, but I don't think it was. Still, if you tell maid-servants as there's something wrong in the house, they'll either go out of the house or out of their skins."

"Do you know what you are talking about, Nat?"

"Yes, sir. Course I do."

"Well, then, just be a little plain, and don't go smothering your words up as if they were seeds that you'd put in to come up in a month. Now, then, what is it?"

"You needn't be quite so chuff with a man, Master Scarlett--a man as is trying to do his duty."

"Well, go on, then."

"I will, sir. I went into the kitchen, and the women was all talking about it. Her ladyship's maid was the one who heard it, yes'day morning, before breakfast."

"Heard what?"

"Groans, sir, and cries."

"Where?"

"That's what they can't make out. All she could say was that it sounded close to the best bedroom, and it was as if somebody was crying for help in a weak voice, and then shouting, 'Red--red!' which they think means blood."

"Stuff and rubbish, Nat!" cried Fred, hastily.

"That's what I said to them, sir."

"Then go and tell them so again," cried Fred. "Come along, Scar; I want a run."

He hurried his companion away, and they went off down to the lake, leaving Nat staring after them before going slowly away toward the garden, muttering to himself--

"It's all very well," he said; "but it couldn't be howls."

"What made you hurry away so?" cried Scarlett, as they walked on, and he came to a stop. "Let's go back and speak to my father. Something may be wrong. How do we know? Nat--"

Fred burst out laughing.

"Why, don't you see?"

"No: what do you mean?"

"Didn't you tell me you were afraid to shout yesterday because your voice went echoing along the passage?"

"Yes."

"Well, what did you call?"

"Fred--Fred!"

"Well, wouldn't that sound to any one who heard it like, 'Red--red'?"

"Of course," cried Scarlett, laughing. "I never thought of that."

"Now, then, which way shall we go? Straight to the mouth where the water ran, or to the hole in the wood?"

"To the hole;" and, after taking the trouble to make quite a circuit, so as to be sure of avoiding observation, they entered the little wood, made their way to the prostrate oak, and found that the bottom of the hole was dry.

"There!" cried Scarlett, "I was right."

They dropped down, and found that by the time they had reached the end of the portion illumined by the light which came down the hole, faint rays were there to meet them from the other end, the light striking in strongly from the bottom of the walled-up entrance, and showing that the floor which they had to follow was damp, but every drop of water had drained away.

On reaching the end, it was quite light; and a little examination proved that other stones at the bottom were sufficiently loose to be easily pushed out, Fred sending out a couple, which went down into deep water at once.

"I wouldn't have done that," said Scarlett. "It's like opening a way for any one right into our house."

"But any one will not know the way," replied Fred, as he went down on hands and knees, and thrust out his head and shoulders. "Easy enough to get out now," he said, as he thrust the bushes aside, "only we should want the boat. Water's quite deep here. Stop a moment!" he cried excitedly, as he twisted himself round and looked up before drawing his head back. "Why, Scar, we could climb up or down there as easily as could be."

"Could we?"

Scarlett crept partly out in turn, and looked up for a minute or two.

"Yes," he said, as he returned, "that would be easy enough."

"Then, do you know what we have to do next?"

"No."

"Go and stop up the big hole in the wood."

Scarlett thought for a moment, and then agreed, following his companion to the opening, and climbing out in turn.

"How shall we do it?" he said.

"The rougher the better," cried Fred, who was by far the more practical of the two. "Let's get great dead branches, and lay them over anyhow, leaving a hole like a chimney, so as to give light. Come along; I'll show you. The more natural the better, in case any one should come here."

"Which is not likely," replied Scarlett.

"I don't know; Nat might. Work away."

They did work away, and with good effect. They had no difficulty in getting plenty of rough pieces, which they laid across, first like the rafters over a shed, and then piled others upon them in the most careless-looking fashion, after which some long strands of ivy and bramble were dragged across, to act the double purpose of binding all together and looking natural.

"But they seem as if they had been just placed there," said Scarlett, looking rather dissatisfied with their work.

"Of course they do to-day; but before a week has gone by, they'll have all their leaves turned up to the light, and go on growing fast. Now, then, who could tell that there was a way down there?"

Scarlett was fain to confess that the concealment would be perfect as soon as the leaves were right, and a shower of rain had removed their tracks.

"And we shall not want to come here at all now, only get in by the proper way. I wish that hole was not broken through."

"We should not have found it without."

"Oh yes, we should," said Fred; "because some day we should have bought candles, and waded down to the mouth."

"Well," said Scarlett, as they strolled away at last, "what's the good of it all, now we have found it out?"

"It doesn't seem quite so much now we have found everything; but still it is interesting, and it will do to hide in when we want to get away from everybody."

"But we never do."

"No," said Fred. "But never mind; there's no knowing of what use it may be, and it's our secret, isn't it?"

"Oh yes, it's our secret, Fred."

"And how we could scare the servants now, by hiding and groaning."

"Till my father examined and found it all out. I shouldn't like to look him in the face when he did."

"No," said Fred; "it wouldn't be nice. I say, what stupids we should look!"

"Did you get up so early on purpose to come over here yesterday?" said Scarlett, suddenly.

"No. I was woke up by hearing Captain Miles go."

"Captain Miles? Who is he?"

"I don't know; an old fellow-officer of my father, I think. I say, Scarlett, I'm to be a soldier."

Scarlett laughed, and his companion felt nettled.

"Well," he said, "I shall grow older and stronger some day."

"Why, you couldn't pull a sword right out of its sheath," said Scarlett.

"Couldn't I? Let's go into the house and try."

"Come along, then," cried Scarlett; and the two lads ran right into the Hall, where Fred seized an old weapon from one of the suits of armour, and proved his ability by drawing it from the sheath, Scarlett following his example.

"Now, then!" cried Fred; "_en garde_!"

Nothing loth, Scarlett crossed swords with him, just as his father came thoughtfully out of the library, and stopped to watch them.

"I say, this old sword is heavy though," said Fred, as the point of the long blade seemed attracted toward the ground.

"It's because you haven't muscle enough," replied Scarlett, as the blades grated together. "Wonder whether this one ever cut off a man's head?"

"Is this an omen?" said Sir Godfrey to himself. "Friend against friend, perhaps brother against brother, all through our unhappy land. Well, Heaven's will be done! My duty is to my king."

Meanwhile, the two boys were laughingly making a few cuts and guards with the clumsy old weapons; but directly after they started apart in confusion, as Sir Godfrey said aloud--

"Boys, do you remember the words of Scripture!"

Neither answered; but, with the points of the swords resting on the old oak floor, they stared at him abashed.

"'They that take the sword shall perish with the sword.'"

There was silence in the grand old hall for a brief space, as the two boys stood there in the centre, with the bright lights from the stained-glass windows showering down upon them, and the portraits of Scarlett's warlike ancestors seeming to be watching intently all that was taking place.

Then Sir Godfrey moved slowly across the hall, paused and looked back, and then said gently--

"Put the weapons away, my lads. Warfare is too terrible to be even mimicked in sport."

He sighed and passed through the farther door, leaving the boys gazing at each other in silence.

"How serious he is!" said Scarlett, at last. "Let's put them away. I thought he was going to scold us for taking them down."

"Yes, I thought that," said Fred. "But I should like to be a soldier, all the same, only without any war. Ugh! only fancy giving a man a chop with a thing like that," he added, as he replaced the weapon. "Here, I'm off home," he cried, as he ran to the door.

"Good-bye, old soldier without any war. I say, Fred."

"Well?"

"That will be a capital place for you to hide in when you are a soldier, and the war comes."

"That's right," said Fred, good-humouredly; "laugh away. I dare say I am a coward, but I don't believe everybody is brave. Coming over to-night?"

"Perhaps," was the reply; and Fred went off homeward at a trot, thinking of how delightful it would be to grow into a man, and carry a sword and ride about on a horse like Captain Miles.

He thought a good deal about Captain Miles as he went home, and wondered whether he had gone to Plymouth.

"Because he might have been going to Tavistock or Barnstaple."

The recollection of the sturdy, keen-eyed soldier seemed to oust every other thought from the boy's brain, and he saw in imagination the distant figure as it mounted the rising ground, and, passing over, disappeared.

"I wonder what he came for?" thought Fred. "It didn't seem like the visit of a friend, and it could not be about business, because father never does any business now; but they were so serious, and my mother looked so troubled."

Fred gave his ear a rub, as if he were vexed.

"I suppose it was thinking so much about that rabbit-hole of a place up at the Hall," he muttered. "I never thought any more about mother looking so serious, and having tears in her eyes. I'll ask her what's the matter."

He walked slowly on till he came in sight of the western road, which looked like a narrow path crossing the distant hill.

"Why, there's somebody coming," he cried, as he sheltered his eyes to make out what was evidently a mounted man moving slowly along the road. "He's coming this way," said Fred, musingly. "I wonder who it is?"

Not much of a matter for consideration, in modern days; but to the dwellers in that retired part of Coombeland, far away from a town, the coming of a strange horseman was an event, and, regardless of where he put his feet, Fred went on trying to keep the mounted man in view, as he disappeared at times in the hollows, and then came into sight again, evidently moving at a foot's pace.

"It must be Captain Miles coming back," cried Fred, as the figure disappeared from view in consequence of the lad having to descend into a hollow before rising the opposite hill.

"That old place will be no end of a game when we have cleared it out," mused the boy, as he went slowly down the hill. "It will be a lot of trouble though, and we shall have to sweep and clear away the dust and cobwebs too. I wish we could set Samson and Nat to work, only we can't do that, because, if we did, it wouldn't be a secret place; and, besides, they would do nothing but quarrel, and get no work done. Wonder whether brothers always do quarrel. Why, they're worse than Scar and I are, though we do have a pretty good row sometimes."

Ten minutes later he was mounting the hill, and, as he reached the top, he hastened his pace, so as to get within view of the coming horseman, who was for the moment shut out from view by a patch of woodland; but the regular beat of the horse's hoofs came plainly enough.

"Sounds in the distance just like my pony's trot," said Fred, thoughtfully; and directly after he burst out with a loud, "Oh!" full of vexation in its tone. "Why, it's only old Samson, after all," he cried. "Think of me taking him for Captain Miles!"

He set off at a sharp run across the moorland, so as to cut off a great piece of the road, and reach a point by which the Manor gardener must pass.

Samson was not long in recognising him, and, checking the speed of the stout cob he rode, the mutual effort brought the two together at the sought-for spot.

"Here you, Samson, who told you to exercise my pony?"

"Exercise, Master Fred? You look at him."

"Look at him? I am looking at him. Poor old fellow! he's all in a lather."

"Yes; he hasn't had such a gallop for months."

"How dare you, then! Jump off directly, and walk him home."

"Shan't!" was the laconic refusal, accompanied by a grin.

"What!" cried Fred, doubling his fists threateningly.

"Shan't come off, sir. There!"

"Oh, won't you!" cried Fred, seizing Samson by the leg, and proceeding as if to tilt him over.

"You leave your father's special messenger alone, Master Fred, or you'll get into trouble."

"Did my father tell you to take the pony?"

"Course he did, and to take what he called a despatch."

"Despatch?"

"Yes. To Barnstaple."

"What for?"

"How should I know? It was a big letter, all tied round with ribbon and sealed up, and I've got another like it in here."

As he spoke in a voice full of importance, he tapped a leathern wallet slung over his right shoulder.

"Why, Samson, who did you take it to?"

"To that gen'leman who was here the other night."

"Captain Miles?"

"Yes. At Barnstaple, and some more gen'lemen was with him when I got there, and he read the letter, and they read the letter, and then they said they'd write another, and I was to go down and have some bread and cheese and cider, and I did--a lot."

"I wonder what it means?" said Fred, as he walked on beside the pony, holding by its thick mane, for it was uphill.

"I think I know, Master Fred."

"You do? What is it?"

"Well, sir, it's something to do with the king and the Parliament. They were talking about it at the Red Hind."

"King and the Parliament?"

"Yes, Master Fred; and there were some there as said we should most likely have to fight for our rights."

"But we haven't got any rights to fight for."

"Oh yes, we have, Master Fred," said Samson, importantly. "A man there told me all about it."

"What did he say?"

"Well, sir, I don't quite understand, but they're trying to take our rights away."

"Who are?"

"Well, that's what I didn't get quite clear, you see, sir. But it's some'at like this. Every man has--I don't quite remember what it was he said there, but I do recollect he said that if things were not altered, we should have to fight."

Fred looked at him wonderingly.

"I should have got it all quite pat, you see, only just as I was getting into the marrow of it and understanding it all, that captain sent for me, and give me the big letter I've got in here. And now I must hurry on." For the top of the hill was reached, and the pony broke into a sharp trot without urging.

But Fred kept hold of the mane, and ran easily by his side, coming soon after in sight of Colonel Forrester, standing at the garden gate, evidently waiting for his messenger's return.

As soon as he saw them descending the slope, he walked quickly forward to meet them, holding out his hand for the despatch, and looking so anxious and severe that his son forbore to speak.

"Take the cob round to the stables, and treat him well," said the colonel, sharply, as he tore open the missive and began to read.

Fred felt eagerness itself to know its contents, and he was about to stop, examining the missive the while with eager eyes; but, recollecting himself, he went off at a trot after Samson, who had dismounted, and was leading the pony.

"Hope it's good news, Master Fred."

"I dare say it is. I don't know."

"The captain said I was a gardener, wasn't I; and I told him the truth, and said I was."

"Why, of course, stupid."

"Ah, you don't understand, Master Fred. It isn't every day that a gardener has to carry despatches. And then he said, as he give me the answer, 'Well, you say you are a gardener, don't let the grass grow under your feet.' I didn't, Master Fred. Ask Dodder."

"No need to ask him, poor old fellow," said Fred, patting his favourite's neck.

"Fred!" came from the road.

"Yes, father," cried the boy, and he ran back.

"I thought you were by me, my boy," said the colonel, gravely, as he laid one hand upon his son's shoulder, and held the despatch in the other, gazing thoughtfully before him toward the old house they were approaching.

"I hope you have not had bad news, father," hazarded Fred.

"No, on the whole, good. It must come--it must come."

Fred looked at him inquiringly.

"What are you, Fred--sixteen, isn't it?"

"Yes, father."

"Ah, if you had been six and twenty, how useful to me you could have been!"

Fred flushed.

"I could be useful to you now, father, if you would let me be," he said in an injured tone. "I could have ridden over to Barnstaple with your letter quicker than Samson did, and I shouldn't have tired Dodder so much."

"Yes, I thought of that, Fred, but you are only a boy, and you were at play."

There was a silence for a few moments, and then Fred spoke.

"Is it wrong for a boy to play, father?"

"Heaven forbid. No; of course not. Play goes with youth, and it gives boys energy, strength, and decision. Yes, Fred, play while you can. Manfully and well. But play."

Fred looked up at his father in a puzzled way, as he stopped short, and began beating his side with the despatch he had received. There was a dreamy look in his eyes, which were fixed on vacancy, as he muttered--

"Yes; I must be right. I have hesitated long, but it is a duty. But what does it mean--friendships broken; the land in chaos; brother against brother; perhaps father against son. No, no," he added, with a shudder, as he turned sharply on his boy. "Fred, my lad," he tried, "if trouble comes upon our land, and I have to take side with those who fight--"

He stopped short.

"Who fight, father? You are not going to fight."

"I don't know yet, my boy; but if I do, it will be for those I believe to be in the right. What I believe to be right, you, too, must believe in, and follow."

"Of course, father," said the boy, quietly.

"No matter what is said against me, or how you may be influenced. I know about these matters better than you do, and I shall ask you to trust to me."

Fred smiled, as if his father's words amused him, for it seemed absurd that he should have any opinion against his own father.

"Why, of course, I shall do as you tell me," he said, taking hold of his father's arm, and they walked together into the house, where Mistress Forrester, looking pale and large-eyed, was awaiting her husband's return.

She did not speak, but looked up in his eyes with so eager and inquiring an air that he bent down and kissed her forehead.

"Yes," he said.

"Oh, husband!"

"It cannot be avoided. My duty is with the people. That duty I must do."

"But home--me--Fred?"

"You will be safe here," he said. "It is not likely that the tide of trouble will flow this way."

"But Fred," she whispered.

"Fred. Ah, yes, Fred," said the colonel, thoughtfully.

"Oh no, no, no," cried Mistress Forrester, in agony, as she saw her husband's hesitating way, and suspected the truth. "No, no, husband, he is too young."

"He will grow older," said the colonel, with quiet firmness. "Wife, when the country calls for the help of her son, he must give it freely. If your boy is needed in his country's service, he will have to go."

Fred heard these words, and went slowly and thoughtfully away-- thoughtfully, for his head was in a whirl--the coming of his father's military friend--his father's old life as a soldier--and these hints about civil war.

"I don't think I should mind," he said to himself, "not if Scar went too. He and I could get on so well together. Of course we should be too young for regular soldiers, but we should soon grow older."

Then he began to recall different things of which he had heard and read, about youths going off to the war in olden times to be esquires, and after deeds of valour to become belted knights who had won their spurs.

Fred's was not a romantic nature, for that night, quite late, after he had gone up to bed, he sat at his window looking out at the starlit sky. And as he gazed all the thoughts of the evening came back to make him burst into a derisive laugh.

"It's all nonsense," he said; "knights and squires never did half the things they say. And if we had a war, and I had to go, I'm afraid it would be all rough and different to life here at home. But if Scar went too, I should not mind. They want all the men at such a time as this. Samson would have to go, and Nat, and no end of the farm lads about."

Fred rose from his seat, and closed the window softly, for fear that he should be heard, and at last lay down, but not to sleep, for his young brain was excited, and a feeling of awe came over him as he began thinking of her who was sleeping only a few yards away.

"If father goes and takes me with him, and there is a terrible war, what will my mother say?" _

Read next: Chapter 13. The Beginning Of Trouble

Read previous: Chapter 11. Nat Is Very Much In The Way

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