“Can’t we?” said Fred, in a disappointed tone.
Scarlett shook his head.
“I have held out as long as I could. I thought we might escape; but it was impossible with two wounded men, and I could not get through the lines in search of food.”
Fred raised the light above his head, and then bent down over where he could see some one lying on the stone floor.
“Yes; he is asleep,” said Scarlett, sadly.
“Is he much hurt?” whispered Fred.
“Terribly; but he is better now, and—”
“Here he is, Master Fred,” whispered Samson, as he knelt beside the grim-looking figure of his brother, who seemed to be smiling mockingly in his face. “Nice object, isn’t he? Brother to be proud on!”
“Silence!” said Fred, sternly; and at that moment there was an ejaculation, a hasty movement, and Sir Godfrey made an effort to raise himself upon his arm, the light, feeble as it was, dazzling him so that he could not see.
“Scarlett! My boy! Are we prisoners, then?”