“You had better follow and find out for yourself, Colonel Forrester,” said the prisoner, coldly. “You will get no information from me.”
“Scar Markham!” exclaimed the colonel, in astonishment. “My poor boy, I am sorry that we should meet like this.”
“And I am glad, sir,” cried Scarlett, excitedly, “for it gives me an opportunity to say that I, too, am sorry to see you like this, a rebel and traitor to your king.”
“Silence, sir! How dare you! Take the prisoners away, and see that they are well used.”
“Yes, father,” replied Fred; and he saw the five men disposed of, and then led Scarlett to his own little tent which he had placed at his disposal, and saw that he had an ample supply of food.
He then took his own, of which he was in sore need, and began to eat in silence, furtively watching the prisoner, who remained silent, and refused the food, though he was famishing.
Fred’s anger had subsided now, and remembering the old days before these times of civil war and dissension, he said quietly—
“I am sorry I have nothing better to offer you.”
Scarlett turned upon him sharply, with a flash of the eye, as if about to speak; but he turned away again, and sat looking straight before him.
There was a long silence then, during which Fred thought how hard it was for his old friend to be dragged there a prisoner, and he said softly—