As he spoke, he struck his spurs into his horse’s flanks, snatched the stout ash stall one of the men held from his hand, leaned forward, and then, as Fred seized his horse’s bridle to stop him from galloping off, struck his captor with all his might.
The blow was intended for Fred’s head, but the movement of the horses in the mêlée caused the staff to fall heavily across the young officer’s thigh.
Unable to restrain a cry of rage and pain, Fred snatched his sword three-parts from its sheath, and then thrust it back, angry with himself for his loss of temper, while Scarlett sat struggling vainly, for the man who held the rope had skilfully used it just as a child would a skipping rope, throwing it over the prisoner’s arms, crossing his hands, and passing one end to a soldier on the other side. In an instant, Scarlett’s elbows were bound tightly to his ribs, and there held, while a couple more men thrust a fresh staff behind his back and under his arms, another rope was used, and with the rapidity which comes of practice upon hundreds of previous prisoners, the passionate young officer was literally bound and trussed, the ends of rope being made fast to the horse he rode.
The men who were looking on, murmured angrily at the blow which they saw fall on their young officer.
“Hang him to the nearest tree,” shouted one of the party.
“Silence!” cried Fred, sternly; and speaking quite calmly now, though he was quivering with pain, he pressed his horse closely to that upon which his prisoner rode.
“That was a cowardly blow, Scar Markham,” he said, in a whisper. “I was only doing my duty. You’ll ask my pardon yet.”
“Pardon?” raged the lad; “never! Oh, if I only were free and had my sword, I’d make you beg mine for this indignity. Miserable wretch! Rebel! I shall live yet to see you and your traitor of a father hung.”
Fred started angrily at this, but he checked himself, reined back his horse, and looking very white now from anger and pain, he gave the word of command. Six of his men formed up in front of the prisoners, the other six took their places behind; swords were drawn, and the horses bearing the prisoners needed no guiding, but in accordance with their training as cavalry mounts, set off in rank as the word “March!” was given, the young leader waiting till all had passed, and then taking his place beside the last two men, one of whom was Samson.