As the party came up, Samson exchanged looks with his brother, whose lips moved as if he were saying—
“Only just you wait, my fine fellow, and I’ll serve you out for this.”
But Samson laughed and rode to his old place in the rear beside his captain.
As Samson went by Fred, the latter caught sight of something scarlet, and the colour suggesting his prisoner, he turned sharply upon his follower.
“What’s that?” he said.
“Only the young captain’s hat, sir.”
Fred frowned as he saw that Samson had fastened the grey felt hat with its gay feathers to his saddle, and then glanced forward at Scarlett, whose cropped head was sheltered by the heavy, uneasy steel cap.
“Ride forward,” he said, “and give the prisoner back his hat.”
Samson stared, but of course obeyed. Untying the hat from his saddle, he rode forward to where Scarlett sat, gazing straight before him.
“Captain sent your hat, sir. Shall I put it on?”