“Put it on the point of your pike, and pass it up.”
Fred did as he was bidden, and sticking the folded missive on the point of the pike which carried the white flag, he held it up, and it was taken.
“You had better retire while it is read,” said Sir Godfrey, contemptuously. “I see there are two of our men paying attention to you. Rein back, if you are afraid.”
It was a hard struggle, for with those two fierce-looking troopers watching him along the barrels of their pieces, Fred’s inclination was still to turn and gallop away as fast as his horse would go.
But at that moment he raised his eyes, and could see that Scarlett was looking down at him, as if to watch the effect of Sir Godfrey’s words.
This look seemed to stiffen him, and he sat perfectly erect upon his horse, with the pike-shaft resting upon his toe, as he told himself that he hoped if the men fired they would miss; that before he would run away, with Scar Markham to laugh at his flight, they might riddle him with bullets through and through.
“Well, sir,” said Sir Godfrey, half mockingly, “are you going to retire?”
“I am under a flag of truce, Sir Godfrey,” said Fred, quietly. “I thought the Royalist party were gentlemen, and knew the meaning of such a sign.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the tall Cavalier by the general’s side. “That’s a good sharp retort for you, Markham. Well done, youngster! Don’t be afraid.”
“I am not,” said Fred, stoutly; but at the same time he said to himself, “Oh, what a horrible lie, when I’m all of a cold shiver.”