"Yes! What is it?" he cried—"Where am I?"

"On'y here, Master Mark," replied the boy. "Candle's gone out."

"Why, Dummy! Have we been to sleep?"

"I s'pose so, Master Mark. Po-o-o-o-f-f-uf! There we are!"

He had obtained a light, the match burning up brightly, and then the candle, after the fluffy wick had been burnt and blown.

"How tiresome! I don't know, though. I feel rested."

"Being up all last night, I s'pose," said Dummy, as he stuck the candle in the crack.

"Yes, of course; that's it. Think we've been asleep long?"

"I dunno. Fear'd so."

"Let's go back, then, at once," said Mark, springing to his feet. "Why, we may have been asleep for hours. Light another candle, and let's get back."

"Right, Master Mark. Well, it don't much matter, for we hadn't nothing to do."

The second candle was lit, and stuck in the rough wooden carrying-stick, the other was taken from the crack in the stone and treated the same.

"Won't go no furrer, then, Master Mark?" said the boy.

"No, not to-day," said Mark decisively, as he looked round the chamber, and then stooped to take a draught of the clear water, an example Dummy followed.

"Ready, Master Mark?"

"Yes, lead on. But which way?"

"Don't you know, sir?" said Dummy grinning.

"Haven't the least idea. Have you?"

"Yes, sir. This way. I know."

"But are you sure you are right?"

"Ay, this is right."

"Then you have been there before?"

"Nay, never; but I can feel that's right," and he pointed in the opposite direction to that which Mark felt they ought to take.

"Forward, then, and let's get out as quick as we can."

"Yes, but it'll take some time;" and the boy led on.

"Why, Dummy," cried Mark, suddenly, "we must have slept for hours and hours."

"How do you know, sir?"

"Why, I can feel."

"In your head, like, sir?" said Dummy eagerly.

"Head? No: somewhere else," cried Mark, laughing. "I am half-starved."

A good three hours must have elapsed before, after a weary climb and tramp, and when the last candle had been lit, the two lads emerged from behind the stony veil into the grotto-like place that had deceived Mark Eden.

"Don't matter about candles now, Master Mark," said Dummy; "I could find my way out ready enough by touching the wall with one hand."

"Well, make haste and let's get out; I don't want to be in fresh trouble through stopping so long. I believe it's supper-time."

"Yes, Master Mark," replied the boy, "and so do I."

They had still a long way to go, but once past the veil of stalactite, they began to enter the workings with the passages and chambers possessing fairly level floors, made for the convenience of transporting the ore to the mouth of the mine. The walking then became comparatively easy, but Mark's weariness was on the increase, and there were moments when the faint glow of light which spread around Dummy, as he walked in front, grew misty and strange, playing fantastic tricks to the observer's eye: now it seemed close to him; now it and the black silhouette it formed of the bearer's body appeared to be far-off, and to die away in the distance, but only to return again with a sudden jerk, as Mark started and tried to step out more firmly.

At these moments, his own candle having burned out, Mark watched the shadow of his companion dancing about, now on the floor, now on the ceiling or on either side, looking grotesque and goblin-like for a few moments, and then dying out again and causing the lad to start, as he felt in a dreamy way that he was being left behind, though on recovering his fleeting senses it was only to find that Dummy was almost within touch.

This had been going on for some time, when Mark spoke:

"I say, don't go right away and leave me, Dummy."

"Who's a-going to?" said the boy, looking round in surprise.

"I know you wouldn't on purpose, but keep looking round. I can't keep awake. My legs do, but all the rest goes to sleep, and I begin getting in a muddle."

"Oh, we shall soon be out now," said the boy laughing.

"Soon be out! I never knew the place was so big before. Keep looking back to see that I don't drop down fast asleep."

"I'd make you go first," said Dummy, "but you don't know the way."

"No: keep on as you are, and make haste."

"Can't: must go steady, because of the candle."

"Oh dear!" sighed Mark. "I am so sleepy, and it's beginning to get down below my belt, to where my leg was hurt."

"No, no, don't you think that," cried Dummy. "Let's keep on talking."

"Yes," said Mark, jumping at the proposal. "Let's keep talking—Who are you laughing at?"

"You, Master Mark. You are sleepy. 'Tarn't far, now. Fresh air'll soon rouse you."

There was no reply, and as the boy glanced back he could see that his companion was beginning to reel about like a drunken man, and that his eyes had a peculiar dull, fixed look.

The next minute the lids drooped, and he walked on as if that which he had said was quite true—that all was fast asleep but the legs, which went on automatically, and supported their load.

"With a fal, lal-lal, lal-lalla, lalla, la!" yelled Dummy, not unmusically; and it had its effect, for Mark sprang at him, and caught him by the shoulder.

"What was that?" he cried excitedly.

"On'y me singing, Master Mark. Soon be out now."

"That's what you keep on saying," cried the lad, pettishly. "I don't believe we're going right. You've taken a wrong turning by mistake. Here, I can't go any farther, Dummy. I must lie down and go to sleep again. It's horrible to keep on like this. I know I shall fall."

"You do, and I'll stick a pin in you," said the boy roughly.

"What!"

"I'm not going to have you fall asleep again. Come, rouse up, Master Mark; I'm ashamed of you. For two pins I'd hit you over the head."

"What!" cried Mark, in an access of passion; "why, you ugly big-headed mole, how dare you speak to me like that?"

"'Cause I like," cried Dummy sharply. "Talking of going to deep, like a great gal. Yah! Gen'lemen aren't no use. Never do have no legs."

"You insolent dog!" roared Mark, leaping at him, and striking the boy twice heavily on the back, with the result that the one candle was jerked out of the stick he carried, to fly forward on to the floor, flicker for a moment or two, and then, before it could be seized, go out, and with it Mark's bit of passion.

"Oh!" he cried, as he stood fast in the darkness.

"There, you've done it now," cried Dummy, in mock tones of horror.

"Yes, be quick; get out the flint and steel."

"What for?"

"To get a light."

"For you to begin knocking me about again."

"No, no, Dummy; I won't touch you again. It was your fault: you made me so cross."

"All right, Master Mark," said the boy, with a good-humoured laugh. "I only did it o' purpose to wake you up, and it has. I don't mind what you did. Don't feel sleepy now, do you?"

"No, no, I'm quite awake. The drowsy feeling has gone off. Come, light the candle."

"Shan't now," replied Dummy. "We're only a little way off now, and I can manage."

"But are you sure?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure enough, Master Mark. Wait a minute."

"Yes. What are you going to do?"

"Only unloose a few rings of this line we brought."

"What for? If you play me any tricks now we're in the dark, I'll—"

"Who's going to play any tricks?" grumbled the boy. "Men don't play tricks. Here, kitch holt: now you can follow me, and feel me, if you keep the rope tight, and won't go hitting yourself again the wall."

Mark grasped the end of the rope handed to him, and they started forward in the intense blackness, the novelty and sense of shrinking soon passing off, and the lad feeling more and more confidence in his leader.

"Don't feel a bit sleepy now, do you?" asked Dummy.

"Not in the least. I say, are you sure that you can go on without taking a wrong turning?"

"Oh yes, I'm right enough, Master Mark."

"How far is it now?"

"On'y 'bout fifty fathom or so. We're just getting to the rise."

"Then we—no, you're wrong. We can't be. Why, if we were so near the mouth we should see daylight."

"What! in the middle o' the night? Not you."

"What! You don't think it's so late as that?"

"Yes, I do. It's past twelve o'clock, if it's a minute."

"Then we must have slept a very long time below there."

"Hours upon hours," said Dummy, chuckling.

"Hark! What's that?" said Mark excitedly.

"Shouting," said the boy, after listening. "My! they are making a row about it. They're coming to fetch us, because we've been so long."

The two lads were still making for the mouth of the mine, and were now ascending the rough steps, to pause by the stone shed inside the entrance, where tools, gunpowder for blasting, and several kinds of tackle were kept, in among the candles and torches.

"Here, Dummy," cried Mark excitedly, as the noise outside and above them increased, "what does this mean? They're fighting!"

"Fighting?" cried the boy excitedly.

"Yes, what can it mean?"

"Mean, Master Mark? I can tell you. It's the Darleys come at last to take our place. Oh, why didn't I kill young Ralph that night when I followed him home through the wood?"

"You did what?"

"Followed him. I wasn't sure he'd been trying to kill you, or I would."

"Come along, and don't talk," whispered Mark excitedly. "Ah! I have no sword."

"Got a pick in your belt, and so have I."

"You'll stand by me, Dummy?"

"Won't I, Master Mark! I want to get a hit at some of 'em. You won't stop me, will you, to-night?"

"If they've come and attacked us, no. Hush, quiet! Let's steal out first, and see."

The night was very dark as they left the mouth of the mine, but after their late experience it seemed to both to be comparatively light, and with Mark now armed with the miner's pick, which he felt would be a good substitute for a battle-axe, they hurried up the steps, with the noise above increasing, but seeming to be over on the other side of the little castle. A minute or two later they had reached the platform which led to their right over the narrow natural bridge, to the left, through the gateway into the first courtyard. This was empty, and they ran lightly across it, to find that the encounter was going on beyond the second gateway, which led into the little inner courtyard, surrounded by the dwelling-house portion of the castle. Both gateways were furnished with means of defence, the outer having an iron grille of heavy crossed bars, while the second had folding doors of massive oak, with a wicket for ordinary use in the lower part of one of the folds. But in spite of the enmity between the two families, little heed had of late been given to the defences. Sir Edward had considered that the outer gate at the end of the natural bridge was sufficient, as there was so little likelihood of an attack without warning; and, as far as Mark could make out, it seemed that under cover of the darkness the enemy had crossed the bridge and forced the gate under the little towers, when the rest would be easy for them. They had only had to pass through the first courtyard, and were now in the lesser or inner court, evidently trying to batter down the entrance door into the hall.

They must have begun their work before Sir Edward and his people were alarmed; but how long before it was impossible to tell. What met the eyes of the two lads now was an armed group trying to batter in the great door by means of a beam they had brought up into the yard, while others, armed with pikes, guarded their companions, upon whom missiles of all kinds were being dashed down from above, and thrusts were being made with other pikes from the windows which flanked or overhung the door.

"The Darleys," whispered Dummy, as they peered together round the inner corner of the gateway dividing the two courts.

"In with it, boys!" roared a hoarse voice; and they dimly made out a heavy figure standing in the shelter of the wall.

"Captain Purlrose and his gang," whispered back Mark huskily. "I wonder how many men my father has in there."

"They were going over to Dexham for a holiday, all but them as was hurt," whispered Dummy. "Come on and help, or the robbers'll get in."

A pang shot through Mark, and he grasped the handle of his pick firmly, ready for a dash, but the feeling that it would be utter madness kept him back. For he knew that even if he could strike down two of the attacking party, they must succumb to the others, and they would have done no good.

It was all plain enough. Purlrose must have gained the information that the mine people were away, and that Sir Edward would be almost without defenders, and, out of revenge for the previous night's attack, have seized the opportunity for a reprisal.

"Why, Dummy," he whispered, with his lips close to the other's ear, "if they take the castle, they'll keep it, and turn us out."

"Yes, and grab the mine," said the boy hoarsely. "Well, we mustn't let 'em."

Bang, bang, came the reports of a couple of arquebuses from one of the windows, but no harm was done, and the men answered with a derisive cheer and continued their battering of the door, which still resisted their efforts.

Another shot was fired, but still without effect, and Mark ground his teeth together as he felt the impotency of his father's efforts now that the enemy had stolen in beyond the gates that would have been admirable for defence.

"Well, aren't you going to do something, Master Mark?"

"What can I do, Dummy?" cried the lad, in despair. "We might shut these gates, and defend them."

"Yes, so we could; but what's the good?"

Just then there was a quick flash and a sharp roar close to the doorway, and in the bright light the lads saw the men drop the beam and run back; but no one was hurt, and in answer to a roar of orders from their leader, the enemy seized the beam again and began to drive it against the centre of the great door.

"Running away from that," roared Purlrose; "handful of powder rolled up in a bag and thrown at you! Down with it! they've got no more."

"Yes, they have," whispered Dummy, excitedly. "Here, Master Mark, quick!"

Mark grasped the idea, without explanation, and ran back with his companion, leaving the shouting, cursing, and firing behind, to descend with him to the mouth of the mine, and then downward to the big stone shed, where Dummy tore open the great oaken closet, and drew out a bag of the coarse blasting-powder used in the mine.

"Feel in that box, Master Mark; that's it. You know. The fuse cord."

Mark had a roll of loose twisted hemp soaked in saltpetre and powder out of the box directly, and armed with a powder-bag each, they hurried trembling back, to reach the gateway, peer round the corner, and see that the attack was going on as fiercely as ever, while the defence was very weak, and they knew that before long the door must yield. In fact, amidst a burst of cheers, a hole had been already driven through, to be made use of by the defenders for sending thrusts out with their pikes.

"Up with you," whispered Mark, and the two lads hurried up a little winding staircase on to the top of the inner gate-tower, from whence they could go along one side of the little yard, hidden by the crenellated battlement, till they were about five-and-twenty feet from where the men were carrying on their attack.

"Light it, and chuck it among 'em," whispered Dummy, but he proceeded with system. "Put t'other inside the doorway," he whispered. "Don't want that to go off too."

Mark obeyed, and returned unseen by those below, or the party defending the hall-door, to find that his companion, used to seeing such things done, had cut a little hole in the side of the powder-bag, inserted a piece of the fuse, and thrust the rest in his pocket.

"Here, you hold the end of the string up," whispered Dummy; and there was a rattling noise, as he took out the flint and steel he was carrying.

A cold chill ran through Mark.

"Mind," he whispered; "you'll blow us to pieces."

"Nay, I won't," said the lad, between his teeth. "You hold the thing in your hands; open it out a bit. I won't send no sparks nigh the powder. Aren't afeared, are you?"

"No," said Mark, setting his teeth; and stooping down, he screened the bag by passing the fuse between his knees, holding the frayed-out end ready while Dummy made a low clicking noise, and cleverly sent a shower of sparks down upon the prepared hemp.

It caught directly, and began to sparkle and sputter, Mark holding it firmly, but feeling as if he were the victim of some horrible nightmare dream.

"That's the way," said Dummy, coolly replacing the flint and steel. "It won't go off yet. I want it to burn till it's nearly ready, and then heave it down right amongst 'em. Make some on 'em squint."

"Throw it—throw it," panted Mark hoarsely.

"Nay, not yet. They'd see it burning, and tread it out. Here, you let me have it. I'll hold it to the last minute, and when I throw, you duck yourself down, or you might get burnt."

Dummy took hold of the burning cord with his left hand, the bag with his right, pressing his companion out of the road, and then standing twitching the sparkling fuse, which was only a few inches away from the powder in the bag.

"I've often seen it done," he whispered.

A shout came up from the little court, for the followers of Captain Purlrose had again driven their battering ram through the great door, and a shout of defiance came back from the hall from a few voices, among which Mark recognised his father's; but he could not turn from that sparkling piece of line to glance over the stony battlement to see what was being done. His eyes were fascinated, and nothing could have withdrawn them then.

He had proved again and again that he was no coward, but a great terror chained him now, and his voice trembled as he panted out:

"Quick—quick; throw—throw!"

"Nay, not yet. I'm watching of it. Father always waits till there's on'y about an inch, to make sure it'll go off."

There was not much more as he spoke, and just then, in obedience to an order from their captain, the men drew back from the doorway, balancing the beam swung between them, as, four on each side now, it hung from their hands, and backing till they were past the spot where the pair were crouching.

"Now, all together, my brave boys," cried Purlrose; "a good run, and down goes the door. Off!"

The order answered for Dummy as well as the men, and feeling now that he had waited too long, the boy swung the bag over the battlement. The passage through the air increased the sparkling of the fuse, and before it touched the pavement, a few feet in front of the men starting for their run, there was a wondrous flash of light, a fierce wind drove the two lads backward, and then came a deafening roar, mingled with the breaking of glass, a yell of horror, and as the roof still quivered beneath the lads' feet they heard the rush of men through the gateway, across the next court, and through the outer opening on to the bridge, and then down the first slope.

"Come on!" cried Dummy, running to the low doorway of the gate-tower, where he picked up the other powder-bag, and, hardly knowing what he did, Mark followed him down the winding stair into the gateway.

"Come on!" cried Dummy again, and Mark still followed, across the outer court and the first gateway, grasping the pick from his belt, feeling that they were about to charge the rear of the flying enemy.

"Come on," shouted Dummy, for the third time, and they crossed the narrow space, which brought them to the little tower and gateway by the natural bridge, where, as Mark closed up, he could hear the babble and growl of voices from the bottom of the first slope.

"Shied it too soon," growled the boy. "I don't believe it's killed one."

"They're coming back, Dummy," cried Mark, "and the gate's broken away from the hinges."

"Then they shall have it this time," cried the lad, and cutting a hole with his knife in one corner of the powder-bag, he held it down at one side behind the massive wall of the little tower, and striding his legs, walked slowly forward till he reached the middle of the bridge, where he plumped the powder-bag down, after leaving a little train of the black grains behind him where he walked.

Then carefully avoiding it, he stepped quickly back to where Mark was standing, and took out and handed him the flint and steel.

"You do it this time," he said. "We shall be in shelter here. I'll watch and say when."

Mark took the rough implements, and knelt down by the commencement of the train.

"Hold it close down, quite steady, and give one good nick, and it will set the powder off."

"Come on, you cowardly dogs," cried a now familiar voice. "There's everything that's good in there, and the place will be ours, I tell you. What, going to be scared by a puff of smoke? The place is our own now. All here?"

"Ay," came in a growl.

"Form in good order, three abreast, and charge right across and into the yard. Halt! Steady! To think of running for a flash in the pan!"

"You ran too," growled a voice.

"You won't be happy till you're strung up, Hez Bingham," cried the captain. "Now then: swords. Steady! Forward!"

"Now!" whispered Dummy; and as the men tramped on to the bridge for their renewed attack, Mark struck the steel with his flint, and a tiny spark or two fell.

"Quick—another!" whispered Dummy, and the men halted in the middle of the bridge.

"Forward!" shouted the captain from the rear; "what are you halting for?"

"What's this here?" growled one of the men in the first line, for he had caught sight of the powder-bag lying in the middle of the pathway, his question taking off his comrades' attention from the two sharp clicks which came from behind the lesser gateway.

But they saw a little line of light and smoke running over the stone paving of the bridge, and with a yell of horror, they turned and fled hurriedly back and down the slope.

"Don't look!" yelled Dummy, forcing Mark aside, when the flash brought the castle and summit of the Black Tor into full view; then there was an awful muffled roar, which went echoing away, and as it died out, the two lads dashed across the bridge to the head of the zigzag descent, to make out by hearing that the enemy were in full retreat.

"I think that settled 'em," said Dummy quietly. "You did it fine, Master Mark."

"Hoi! Who's there?" cried a voice behind them.

"Dummy Rugg, father."

"And you, my boy? Thank Heaven! I was afraid something was wrong."

"Then it was you two with my powder," cried another voice out of the darkness.

"Yes, Dan Rugg, and a splendid use they made of it," cried Sir Edward. "Well done, my lads. But come into shelter; they surprised us, with everything left open. We must lock the stable door now. Think they'll come again, Rugg?"

"Nay, Sir Edward; not to-night. Those explosions will bring our lads up to see what's the matter."

"Well, secure the gates as we go in."

Dan Rugg was right. Within half-an-hour a dozen men had come up and been admitted, ready to meet the enemy should he return, but the silence up at the Black Tor was not disturbed again that night.

"Out of revenge for you boys' attack," said Sir Edward, when he had heard his son's account of their proceedings in the mine, and Dummy's clever thought about the powder. "It might have meant the loss of this place. But there must be an end to it now. You lads were so handy with the powder-bags that you shall try your hands upon that wasps' nest, for I can't rest now till I've had it well burnt out. Pity more powder was not used this time. I don't believe they were more than singed, and half my windows were smashed."

"But if we had used more powder, father," said Mark, smiling, "we might have knocked down the place."



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

AN ENEMY IN DISTRESS.

The rattling of a handful of tiny pebbles took Mark Eden to his window that morning—for it was beginning to grow grey in the east when he went to his bed, Sir Edward insisting upon his going, and announcing that he was going to keep watch with three men.

Mark pleaded for permission to join in the vigil, but Sir Edward firmly ordered him to go and take proper rest; so he went, feeling that after such an exciting time sleep would be impossible, and going off directly into a deep dreamless slumber, from which he was awakened by that shower of pebbles.

He threw open the casement, fully expecting to find that he had been summoned to help defend the place from a fresh attack; but only saw Dummy Rugg below in the yard, waving his arms to him.

"Dress yourself and come down, Master Mark," cried Dummy, in a hoarse whisper, uttered between his hands. "What is it—the enemy?"

"Yes," said Dummy, nodding his head a great deal. "He wants to see you."

"Me or my father?"

"You," whispered Dummy mysteriously. "Look sharp."

Mark did look as sharp as he could, hurriedly washing and dressing, while still feeling stupid and thick with sleep.

As he went down he saw one of the servants, and asked for Sir Edward, but learned that his father had not long gone to his chamber.

He went out of the battered hall-door, looked round at the shivered casements and the walls blackened and whitened by the powder blast, and then hurried through the gateway into the outer court.

But Dummy was not there now, so he passed through and saw the boy waiting at the entrance of the gateway which had protected the bridge so poorly on the previous night.

"Where is he?" cried Mark.

"Bit o' the way down the path," was the reply.

"Is it Captain Purlrose?" asked Mark.

"Yah! No, not him. T'other enemy."

"What enemy? Whom do you mean?"

"Him you hate so. Young Ralph Darley."

"Here?" cried Mark in astonishment.

"Yes; I see him coming up, and was going to heave a big stone down on him, but he threw up his hands, and called out as he wanted you."

"Why, what can he want?" cried Mark, flushing with fresh excitement.

"I dunno, but it's some mischief, or a Darley wouldn't have come. You be on the look out: he's got his sword. I'll come with you and let him have my pick if he means anything again' you. He's heard of the fighting, and thinks we're beat; so just you look out."

"You stop here," said Mark sharply, for he felt that this must be an advance toward friendship on the part of the Darleys—that on hearing of the attack Sir Morton had sent his son as an ambassador, to offer to join Sir Edward Eden in an expedition to crush their mutual foe.

"Stop here, Master Mark, and let you go into danger," cried Dummy. "I won't!"

"Stop here, sir! How dare you!" cried Mark. "Do you think that I cannot defend myself against a boy like that?"

"He's as big a boy as you are, Master Mark, and I won't let you go alone."

"Dummy, you're an insolent dog," cried Mark haughtily. "Keep your place, sir, or I'll never go down the mine with you again."

"Oh, very well," said the boy sulkily, "but if he cuts your head off, don't come and howl about it to me after it's done."

"I promise you I won't," cried Mark.

"And I shall climb up yonder and watch you, Master Mark; and if he kills you I'll follow him till I get him, and I'll take him and heave him down that big hole in the mine, where the water falls."

Mark hardly heard this, for he was hurrying over the bridge, followed by Dummy, who, as his young master went down the zigzag path, began to climb up to where he could keep watch, a sentry being higher still, where he could command the approaches to the Tor Castle.

At the bottom of the third slope, Mark came upon Ralph, who was approaching to meet him, and at a glance he saw that something terrible had happened, for the lad's face was haggard and wild. There were smears of blood about his temples, while his face looked as if it had been washed, and some injury had bled again. In addition, a closer inspection showed that his hair had been singed off on one side, while the other was matted by dry blood.

"Why, hullo! Have you been in the wars too?"

"Help!" cried the lad, holding out his hands to him imploringly.

"Help? You come to me!" said Mark wonderingly.

"Yes, to you, mine enemy," cried Ralph, with a wild hysterical cry. "I am humbled now—there is no one else to go to. Oh, for pity's sake, help!"

He covered his face with his hands in his shame and agony, feeling that his manhood had gone out of him, and Mark felt that something terrible must have occurred, for a burst of hysterical sobbing escaped from the wounded lad, and he threw himself face downward upon the path.

For a moment shame and contempt reigned in Mark Eden's breast, but they were chased away by a manly feeling of pity for the enemy who seemed to be humbling himself so before him.

Then all selfishness passed away in turn, and the word enemy dropped out of his being as the true English boy shone out of his eyes in compassion for a lad who had evidently passed through some terrible experience.

"I say! Darley," he said gently, "don't go on like that. I know, though I don't like you, that you are a brave lad, and it hurts me to see you so. There's a sentry up yonder, and our boy, Dummy. Don't let them see you cry. It's like a woman."

Ralph sprang to his feet, with his face distorted, and his eyes flashing wildly.

"Yes," he cried fiercely, "like a weak, pitiful girl; but I couldn't keep it back. If it had not come I should have gone mad, for my head felt as if it was on fire. That's past now, and I can talk. You see how I am, I have come to you and your father—to you Edens, our enemies—to ask you by all that is holy, by all that's manly, to help me."

He stopped, panting, and trying to speak, but the words would not come; he was choking. The blood seemed to rush to his temples so that the veins stood out, and he reeled and would have fallen had not Mark caught, supported him, and lowered him down upon the rocky path.

Then looking up, he shouted to Dummy.

"Fetch two men here—quick!" he cried.

Dummy disappeared, and Mark knelt down and unfastened the neck of the lad's doublet, and saw that his head had received a bad cut, for the cap had fallen off, and his face was ghastly.

"Poor lad!" said Mark softly. "I know it's wrong, but I can't help liking him. Why, I know," he cried excitedly. "That's it. I never saw such an enemy! He must have known that we were being attacked, and been coming to help us, and those fiends have served him like this. That's it! He's just the fellow who would do it, for I know he likes me. I've seen it over and over again."

He sprang up, feeling ashamed of what he had said, and afraid of being seen by his people, for he heard steps coming; and directly after, Dummy came running down, followed by a couple of stout miners, each fully armed.

"Here, Dummy," cried Mark, "run all the way to Master Rayburn, and tell him to come here directly."

"Go to fetch Master Rayburn for him?" said the boy, staring.

"Yes, can't you see he is wounded and burnt? Run, or I'll go myself!"

Dummy, awed by this—to him—awful threat, dashed down the zigzag at a dangerous pace, while, at their young master's orders, the two miners gently lifted and bore the insensible lad up to the castle, into the dwelling-house, and then to Mark's chamber, where he was laid upon the bed.

As soon as he had dismissed the bearers, Mark began to bathe the lad's temples, and in a few minutes he opened his eyes and stared wildly round.

"Where am I?" he said.

"Here: safe," said Mark.

Recollection came back to the poor fellow's swimming brain, and he threw his legs off the couch and tried to rise, but sank back with a groan.

"There: you can't," said Mark soothingly, and he took his hand. "Tell me—what's happened? You didn't see, because you'd fainted when I had you brought in, but we're in trouble too. But I suppose you know. Were you going to help?"

"To help?" said Ralph faintly. "No; to ask for help. They took us by surprise. Our men wounded. Just at day-break. We were all asleep. They climbed in."

"Who did? Purlrose?"

"Yes; and his men. Father called me to dress, and we called the men together, but they got between us and the arms. The cowards! they cut us down. The poor lads who were wounded too. All so sudden. In a few minutes it was all over. Father prisoner—half our men dead; rest locked in one of the lower rooms: and I crawled away—to lie down and die, I thought."

"Why, it must have been after they had failed here," muttered Mark.

"They did not see me; I was behind an over-turned table, and a curtain and chair over me. I could hear all they said. They sat and drank after they had dragged out four of our poor fellows, dead."

"Then they sat and talked; I heard them. That captain said Cliff Castle would do as well as Black Tor, and they would stay there."

"Ah!" panted Mark excitedly.

"And a great deal more. It meant that they'd taken the place, and I felt then that I must die. I don't know how long they were there. It was hot and stifling, and there was smoke, and a man rushed in, and said the prisoners had escaped, and set fire to the place."

Ralph shuddered and was silent, till Mark began bathing his face again, when he seemed to revive a little, and wandered on:

"Fire burned so fast—crawled out—through the window—Minnie's fish-pool—castle burning so fast—father—Minnie—help!—oh help!"



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

DRAWING TOGETHER.

Mark bathed the sufferer's face again, but there was no return to consciousness, and growing more and more alarmed, he hurried to his father's chamber and woke him, Sir Edward as he leaped up, still dressed, snatching eagerly at his sword. "You, Mark?" he cried. "The enemy?"

"Yes—no, father. Come quickly. Young Darley's here, dying."

"Young Darley here!"

"Yes, in my room," cried Mark wildly. "I've sent for Master Rayburn, but come and do something; we mustn't let the poor fellow die."

And in a wild incoherent way, he told Sir Edward all he knew.

"Then in their disappointment they went on down there," cried Sir Edward, as excited now as his son. "The fiends! the monsters!" he continued, as he entered his son's room. "Poor boy! Oh, Mark, lad, but for God's mercy, this might have been you. Oh! who can think about the old family enmity now? How long is it since you sent for old Rayburn?"

"Ever so long, father. Oh, I say, don't—don't say you think he'll die, father!"

"Heaven forbid, my boy," said Sir Edward softly, and he laid his hand gently on the wounded lad's brow—and kept it there as Master Rayburn entered the room.

"You've heard, then!" he cried, throwing down his hat and stick, and beginning to examine his patient.

"Yes, Mark tells me. Is it all true?"

"True, yes," growled Master Rayburn. "I find they attacked you, were beaten, and then went across and round by the down to Cliff Castle. When I got there it was in ashes, burnt out, and the wretches had gone back with what plunder they could save, and two prisoners to their den."

"Two prisoners?"

"Yes—put your finger here, Mark, while I clip off his hair. Here's a bad cut—Sir Morton badly hurt, and his sweet young child, Minnie."

"Oh!" cried Sir Edward excitedly. "But is this true—are you sure?"

"I had it from one of his men, Nick Garth. Badly wounded too. But he and three others broke out of their window where they were prisoned, in a tower chamber, and out of revenge, to keep the enemy from keeping the place, as they were going to do, they set it on fire."

"Who did?" said Sir Edward sharply.

"Nick Garth and Ram Jennings. He's wounded too. A fine chance for you now, Eden. You can march in and take possession of your enemy's lands."

"I'll march in and take possession of that cursed den that my boy here tried to take, and failed," raged out Sir Edward. "Mark, we can do nothing here. Off with you, and muster every man we have. I can't show mercy now. Tell Daniel Rugg to get ready an ample supply of powder and fuses, and I'll blow up the hornets' nest, and let them stifle where they lie. Rayburn, you'll stay with this poor lad; and Heaven help you to save his life."

"Amen," said Master Rayburn softly.

"His father—his sister—carried off by these demons," muttered Sir Edward, and seizing his son's arm, he hurried with him to give his orders himself.

Mark Eden followed his father, feeling half stunned. The one thought which seemed to stand out clear above a tangle of others, all blurred and muddled, in his brain, was that these troubles—the attack on the Black Tor, and the hundred times more terrible one upon Cliff Castle— were caused by him. Certainty Ralph Darley had something to do with it, but he was badly wounded and out of the question now, so that he, Mark Eden, must take all the blame.

Then, too, he could not understand his own acts. It all seemed so absurd, just such a confused sequence of events as would take place in a dream, for him to be listening to Ralph's appeal for help, and to begin pitying him, his natural enemy, feeling toward him as if he were his dearest friend; and then, with his heart burning with rage against those who had injured him and his, to follow his father, panting to get ready an expedition whose object was to drive Captain Purlrose and his murderous, thieving crew off the face of the earth.

That was not the greatest puzzle which helped to confuse Mark Eden, for there was his father's conduct, so directly opposed to everything which had gone before; but at last, after fighting with his confusion for some time, his head grew clearer, and he drew a long deep breath.

"I know how it is," he said to himself, with a curious smile, mingled of pleasure and pain; "the old trouble's dead. This business has killed it, and I'm jolly glad."

"Mark, boy," said his father just then, and it seemed to the lad that his father must have been thinking and feeling in a similar way, "I daresay you think my conduct strange, after all the teachings of the past, but nature is sometimes stronger than education, and after what has taken place we must, as English gentlemen, forget all old enmity, and behave toward the Darleys as—as—as—"

"I'm sure Ralph and his father would have behaved towards us, if we had been in such a terrible state."

"Yes, my boy—thank you—exactly," cried Sir Edward, with a sigh of relief. "I was afraid you would think it half mad and strange of me to be doing this, when—when you see we could go over and take possession of the Darley's place, and hold it for our own."

"But we couldn't now, father," cried Mark. "If it had been a challenge, and we had gone and attacked them, and conquered, it would have been grand, but the Edens couldn't go and fight wounded men—hit people when they are down."

"No, my boy," said Sir Edward firmly; "the Edens could not do that."

A busy day followed, with the men collected in a state of the wildest excitement, those who had been wounded in the attack upon the cavern and the bitter encounter between the allies for the most part declaring their readiness to bear arms again.

"But you're not fit, Dan," said Mark, as he stood talking to the head miner.

"Not fit, Master Mark?" cried the sturdy old fellow, showing his teeth; "I'm going to show that gang of murderous wolves that I am very fit indeed. My arm won't go very well, and I turn a bit sick and swimming whenever I turn my head."

"Then you mustn't go," cried Mark.

"Mustn't, Master Mark," said the man grimly, "but I must. The lads'll fight as well again with me there. And look here: I won't use my right hand, and I won't turn my head; so I shall be all right, and I'm not going to fight."

"Then what is the use of your coming?"

The man half shut one eye.

"Powder!" he whispered—"powder. You know what that will do, eh?"

"Yes, you can manage that, Dan," said Mark thoughtfully.

"Better than any one else, my lad, and that aren't boasting. Look here, Master Mark; I've been having it over with the lads, and we all think the same. The Darleys are about as bad a lot as ever stepped, and they've done us a lot o' wrong, and deserved all we could give 'em, but they aren't deserved this, and we are going to forgive 'em a bit. Who's going to stand still and see a lot o' ragged rapscallions come and attack our enemies, and try to take that castle? It aren't to be borne, Master Mark; now is it?"

"No, Dan, it is not to be borne."

"Right, sir. I've heered everything now: how they'd took the castle, and was wineing and beering theirselves, and going to stop there, when Nick Garth—ah! I do mort'ly hate that fellow—sets fire to the place, and burns 'em out. Makes me feel as if I could half forgive him all old scores. My pick! It was a fine idea."

"A grand idea, Dan."

"And don't you see, Master Mark, as they missed getting Cliff Castle, they'll just wait their time, and catch us napping, and get this place."

"Never," cried Mark hotly.

"Never, it is, Master Mark. Me and the lads'll blow the old place up first."

"Mark, my boy," cried Sir Edward just then; "here, I want you."

The lad hurried to his father's side, and a strong hand was clapped upon his shoulder, Sir Edward looking him full in the face, but with his eyes thoughtful and fixed.

"No," he said suddenly, "they could not think that if you go alone."

"Who, father? Where?" said Mark, staring.

"I've been thinking, boy," said Sir Edward. "We can make up a good muster, but we ought to be as strong as we can, and it is only right to give Sir Morton's poor fellows who are left a chance of striking a blow for their master and young mistress. Would you mind riding over to the enemy's camp, and asking all who can to come and join us in our expedition this evening?"

"Mind? No, father: I should like to."

"Then go at once."

"Yes, father."

"And bring back with you all you can. If it's only four or five sturdy fellows, it is worth while; and I hope they will be willing to come under my command—no, this will be better: ask them if they will follow you."

"I think I can bring them," cried Mark, flushing.

"Then off. Tell them we have plenty of arms."

Mark hurried away, gave Dummy orders to saddle the cob, and ran in and up to his own room, whose door he opened softly, to start in surprise on finding a nurse assisting Master Rayburn, and seated by the head of the bed, fanning the heated brow of the poor disfigured lad, as he lay muttering in delirium.

"You here, Mary," said Mark, in a sharp whisper.

"Of course she is, boy," cried the old man testily. "Woman's place—and girls grow to women—look finer than a queen on a throne, seated by a sick-bed."

"Yes," assented Mark. "How is he?"

"Couldn't be worse," said Master Rayburn. "There, go and beat the dogs, and if one of them bites you, we'll make up another bed, and nurse you too; won't we, Mary?"

"Oh, no, no, Mark dear; don't, pray don't you get hurt," whispered the girl wildly.

"He won't get hurt much," said Master Rayburn. "Come to stay?"

"No," said Mark, as he made the old man's eyes twinkle by going on tip-toe to the bedside, and gently taking Ralph's right hand which he held for a few moments, and then laid it back.

"Needn't put it down in such a hurry, boy," whispered the old man. "Didn't hurt you, did it?"

"Poor fellow! No," sighed Mark. "But I must go. Father has ordered me to go down the river to the Cliff, to try and get all the Darley men together to come and help in the attack."

"What!" cried Master Rayburn; "Sir Edward has told you to do that?"

"Yes," said Mark, flushing hotly. "Well, what have you to say to it?"

"Nothing," said the old man softly; "only, boy, that I wish you God speed."

There was the clatter of hoofs heard through the open window, and Mark hurriedly kissed his sister.

"I'll take care," he said, smiling.

"But the Darley men may attack you, Mark," she whispered excitedly.

"I'm not afraid," he said, laughing. "Don't let Ralph Darley die, Master Rayburn; he isn't such a bad fellow after all."

"Bah! Bad, indeed," said the old man, pressing Mark's arm, and looking at him proudly, "Deal better fellow than you."

The next minute Mark leaped into the saddle, and the restive cob began to rear.

"Take me with you, Master Mark," said Dummy, as he held the rein.

"Can't! Must go alone, Dum. You come by my side to-night."

"Got to carry bags of powder."

"Well, I shall be there."

"But s'pose the Darleys fight you, Master Mark?"

"They will not, Dummy," cried Mark. "Let go."

And pressing the cob's sides, the little animal bounded over the narrow bridge, and would have galloped in a break-neck fashion down the steep zigzag but for the strong hand at the rein.

The pony had its own way, though, along the rough track by the river, on past Master Rayburn's peaceful cottage, and away again, till at a bend of the stream the rider saw a cloud of smoke hanging over the ravens' cliff, and soon after caught sight of one corner of the castle, with the glorious beeches and sycamores low down, and birches high up, scorched and shrivelled; and now he saw through an alley burned by the flames driven downward by the wind that the beautiful old pile was reduced to a shell, in whose interior the smoke was still rising from a heap of smouldering wood.

As he drew nearer, and crossed the ford which led to the steep path up, he saw on one of the terrace platforms quite a crowd of women and children, collected from the outlying cottages and farms, all standing gazing at the smoking ruins; and on one side there was a little group of men, some standing, others sitting and lying down upon the stones.

"And if it had not been for Dummy our place might have been like this," thought Mark, as he rode up. The men, as they caught sight of him, began to rise to their feet, two or three actively, the others as if in pain, but all wearing a savage scowl.

But Mark did not shrink. He rode right past the women, and drew rein, as Nick Garth said fiercely:

"Well, youngster, have you come to enjoy's morning's work?"

"What have I ever done to make you think me such a cowardly brute, Nick Garth?" said Mark boldly; as the others uttered a menacing growl. "Well," he continued, "is that all you have to say? What about your young master?"

The man's face was convulsed by a spasm, and he turned away, pointing the while at the smoking ruins.

"What does he mean by that?" said Mark to another of the men.

"They killed him," said the man hoarsely. "Burned, poor lad! In yonder."

"No, no," cried Mark excitedly. "He escaped, and came up to us—to ask for help."

"The young master?" cried Nick, turning back to look at the speaker fiercely; "why, I see him cut down with my own eyes."

"I tell you, he crawled out of the fire. He's badly wounded and burned, but he's lying in my room, with Master Rayburn by his side."

"Say that again—say that again, youngster!" cried Nick Garth, as he caught Mark fiercely by the hand, and thrust his blood-smeared and blackened face close to him.

"There is no need," said Mark. "He is very bad, but he was able to ask us for help."

A wild hurrah! burst from the men, even the worst wounded waving their hands, as they crowded round the startled pony, which began to rear, and tried to unseat his rider.

"Quiet!" cried Mark, patting the spirited little animal's neck, and as soon as it was quiet, turning to the object of his mission.

"Now," he said, "my father starts this evening to crush out this gang of miscreants and rescue Sir Morton and your young lady. We have plenty of swords and pikes, and I have come to ask as many of you as can strike a blow to join us."

"Is this a trap, young gen'leman, to make an end of us now we're weak and down?"

"Look in my eyes, Nick Garth," said Mark, gazing straight at the sullen lowering face. "The Edens are gentlemen, not such vile cowards as that. Now then, who'll come and strike a blow for Sir Morton, your young lady, and Master Ralph Darley, lying helpless there?"

"All on us, my lad," cried Nick, with a fierce growl—"all on us as can manage to crawl."

"Ay," rose in a shout.

"It's all right, lads," continued Nick; "the young gen'leman means what he says. No one could be such a hound as to come down upon us now. I says it's right, sir. We trust you, and if you'll give us your hand like a man-like an Englishman should—we'll come."

Mark's hand went out, and his handsome young face shone with the glow that was at his heart, as he gripped the grimy blackened hand extended to him.

He held on tightly, and then gazed wonderingly at the man, whose face turned of a very ashy hue, and he caught at the pony's mane to save himself from falling.

"What is it?" cried Mark eagerly; "you are faint!"

"Got my hand brent a bit, young master," said the man, recovering himself with a forced laugh. "Better now."

He drew back, and limped a little.

"But you are badly hurt. I'll get Master Rayburn to run down."

"Nay. We'll come up to him. Let him stop with the young master."

"You are not fit to come."

"What! Not to have a stroke at them devils?" cried the man fiercely. "I'm a-coming, and so's all as can walk. I'd come if it was half a hour 'fore I was going to die. I did try to burn 'em where they were drinking together, on'y I was in too great a hurry. I ought to ha' waited till they was asleep."

Mark shuddered slightly, but he said no more, and proceeded to examine the men, all of whom, to the number of seven, declared themselves fit to come.

But, including Nick, there were only five really fit to bear arms; the rest had unwillingly to give up. Still, there were three quite uninjured, and these would, Mark felt, be a valuable addition to the little force at home, for they were burning to try and do something to help Sir Morton in his terrible strait; and even the women wished to join. But this was declared impossible, and soon after, feeling the strangeness of his position, Mark was riding back with his recruits.

Five minutes later, he cried, "Halt!" and sprang from his pony.

"Here, Garth," he cried, "I can't ride and see you limp along with that wounded leg."

"Can't help my leg being hurt, young sir," cried the man sourly. "I won't go back, so there!"

"I don't want you to; I want you to strike for your master; but you are lame. There: up with you. Master Rayburn will make you better able to walk when we get to the Tor."

"What, me ride on your pony?" said the man, staring.

"Yes: up, and don't lose time."

The man refused again and again, till Mark cried fiercely:

"You said you'd follow me, and I'm in command. Up this minute, sir;" and the man climbed into the saddle.

It was in this fashion that Mark Eden led the Darley men up the zigzag, and into the inner court of the Black Tor, where his father's followers welcomed them with a hearty cheer, for, enemies they might be, but those assembled felt that they were stricken sore.



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

"HAS YOUR FATHER BEEN A SOLDIER?"

There had been plenty going on in Mark's absence of an hour or two, and as soon as he had seen the recruits to their little force settled down in the hall to rest and refresh, he hastened up to Master Rayburn to find how his patient was going on. "Badly, Mark, boy," said the old man; "very badly. He has been wounded in the mind as well as body. The best remedy for him will be the knowledge that his father and sister are safe. Well, what fortune in your mission?"

"That's good in two ways," he said, as soon as he had heard Mark's account; "strengthens your hands, and sounds as if the people are getting as wise as their masters."

Mark did not wish to discuss that subject, for it was irksome to him at a time when he felt that he did not know whether the Darleys and he were enemies or friends, his thoughts going toward the former as being the more natural in connection with the past.

Under these circumstances, he hurried away, descended, and found his father superintending the repair of the gate which defended the castle by the bridge. The piping times of peace had caused carelessness, and this gate had been so neglected that Purlrose and his men had had no difficulty in levering it off the pivots, and gaining an entrance.

Sir Edward was determined not to be caught sleeping again, for sentinels had been posted, and various means taken for strengthening the place. As for the damage to the great doors of the hall, these had already been covered with stout boarding, and missiles in the shape of heavy stones and pigs of lead were piled up on the platform of each tower.

Under Dan Rugg's supervision, arquebuses had been cleaned and placed ready for use, and a couple of small cannon trained where they could sweep the approach to the bridge, and in turn the gateways leading into the outer and inner courts.

Sir Edward expressed himself as being highly pleased with his son's success; and, treating him in this emergency as if he were a man, he joined him in the little council of war that was held with Dan Rugg. In this the best way of proceeding was discussed, and it was determined that instead of waiting for the darkness, the attacking party should set off early in the evening.

For old Dan had said: "It's no use to think of trying to surprise them now, master; they'll be well on the look out for us, and have men ready. Means a sharp bit of fighting to get up to the hole yonder, but once we get there, the powder will fight for us."

"You mean to fire some at the entrance?" said Mark.

"Ay, Master Mark; that's it, and then send another bag in before us, and fire that, and go on doing it till we've either blasted 'em all out of the place or made 'em so sick and sorry that they'll cry surrender."

The hours glided by, as it seemed to Mark, very slowly, till the time appointed for starting approached; and, after a final glance at Ralph, he was coming down, when Master Rayburn followed him.

"I should like to come with you, Mark, my boy," he said gravely, "but my place is here. Heaven grant that you may be successful; and if you are," he said meaningly, "there will be peace in our vale."

Mark pressed his hand, buckled on his sword, and went down into the yard to join his father, who was giving final instructions to the wounded men about keeping the gates fast during their absence, not that an attack was expected, but "to make assurance doubly sure."

While he was giving his last instructions, Dummy came running over the bridge, and trotted up to Sir Edward.

"Well, boy, could you see anything?"

"Yes," replied Dummy, with a sharp nod of the head. "You can see two, if you go far enough, one on each side of the hill, keeping a look out."

"Did they see you?"

"Nay, I was a-creeping among the bushes."

"Then it is of no use to try and get up unobserved, Mark," said Sir Edward, quietly. "It must be a bold open attack."

He turned and said a few words to Sir Morton Darley's men, Nick and the rest, after having had their injuries tended, and a few hours' rest and refreshment, looking far better prepared for the encounter, and falling into their places with sullen determination.

Mark, at a word from his father, marched up alongside of Nick Garth, who gave him a surly nod, and seemed to be about to speak, but checked himself, and then let his curiosity master him.

"What ha' they got in them baskets?" he said, nodding to a couple strung from poles, and each hanging from two men's shoulders, "bread and cheese?"

"No: blasting-powder."

"Eh? What for?" said the man, staring.

"Blow out the cavern," said Mark quietly.

The man uttered a low long whistle, and then a grim smile covered his face.

"Hah!" he whispered, "that does a man good, young Eden! I was coming, and I meant to fight till I dropped; but after what we tried to do, I knew they'd be too many for us; but I begin to see my way now."

"Yes, they don't like the powder," said Mark. "We made them run with it when they attacked us here."

"What, did they 'tack you here?"

"Yes, and were beaten off, and came down to you."

"Well, it wasn't very neighbourly to send 'em down to us," said the man sourly.

"You should have beaten them off, and sent them back again," said Mark, smiling.

Then the order to march came, and the little band of sturdy men went off at a solemn tramp, Dummy carrying a couple of lanterns and a box slung from his shoulder, well supplied with torches, candles, and slow match, for the powder which it did not fall to his lot to bear.

As they passed over the bridge, the wounded men clanged to the gates, and two of them took their places on the tower above, while, as the party tramped across and turned to descend the zigzag, a thought came to Mark, and he turned back to glance at the window of his bed-chamber, as he wished that Ralph Darley were uninjured and marching by his side to help in the rescue of his father and sister.

There were two faces at the casement: those of Mary and Master Rayburn; and as the lad descended the slope they waved their hands to him. The next minute the cliff-side hid them from view.

The march in the calm bright evening was uneventful. Everything was so beautiful that it seemed hard to realise the horrors which had taken place during the past night, till Mark looked to right or left, and saw the bandages of several of the men. Nick Garth, too, was limping, but he resolutely kept on declaring that it was nothing to mind.

The Steeple Stone was left to the right, for there was this time no party of allies to meet; and very soon the great heavy mass of barren rocky hill loomed up before them, higher and higher, till the party were out from among the trees which had so far concealed their march, and proof was soon given that they were observed.

For all at once something was seen to be in motion, and Dummy shouted:

"There: I told you so!"

At the distance they then were, the object seen might have been a sheep or goat, slowly moving up the higher part of the mountain; but before long it stood out on the ridge, clear against the golden evening sky, plainly enough now a man.

Mark judged that after watching them the sentinel waved his hand to some one below, for the movement was seen, and a few minutes later another, and again another figure came up to stand clearly marked against the sky; and after a time all descended, their course being tracked down the barren hill face, till they disappeared, without doubt, in through the mouth of the cavern.

"Preparing a warm reception for us, Mark, my lad," said Sir Edward, advancing to his son's side; "but we shall be able to give them one equally warm. Well, my man, how are the wounds? Would you like to have ten minutes' halt?"

Nick, to whom this was addressed, showed his teeth in a peculiar smile.

"When we've done our work, master; not before. Dessay we shall be 'bliged to wait before we get in."

"I hope not," said Sir Edward. "I mean for us to make a bold rush."

"That's right, master," said the man, whose fellows were listening eagerly; "but I've been thinking about Sir Morton yonder, and my young lady."

"Yes? What about them?" asked Sir Edward.

"You're going to use blasting-powder?"

"Well, what of that?"

"I was thinking about them inside. We wouldn't like to hurt them."

"Of course not; but as I know the place, there is little fear. I went in some distance, some twenty years ago, and the passages run to and fro and keep opening up into chambers. Now, one of these, some distance in, is sure to be turned into a prison for the captives, where they would be beyond the reach of the powder, and I feel certain that they would be too far away to be hurt."

"Won't bring the roof down upon 'em, will it?" asked the man.

"I don't think there is any fear; but it is only where we fail to drive the wretches back that I shall have a charge fired. I must save my men from injury as much as I can."

"That's what Sir Morton used to say, young gentleman," said Nick, as Sir Edward drew back; and for the next half-hour the attacking party, a good twenty strong, advanced steadily, the steepness of the climb soon enforcing slower progress.

For some little time now they had been aware of the fact that the enemy had been making preparations for an attack. Taught by the last, they had worked hard, and built-up a massive wall across the entrance to their stronghold, this defensive work being formed of the rough blocks lying about the little slope, and for the most part they were dragged down, and hoisted into their place.

Upon this, half-a-dozen armed men were standing, watching their approach, and the attacking party made out their swords and pikes, the latter leaning against a rock, with their bright steel heads sloping towards the climbers.

When these latter were within about a hundred yards, Sir Edward halted his party, and ranged them in a curved line, the men at a short distance from each other, so that as they all made for the mouth of the cave they would gradually draw together, and be close when they delivered the attack.

"Pikes only," said Sir Edward. "Keep your swords for the close hand-to-hand work."

"Has your father been a soldier, youngster?" whispered Nick Garth hoarsely.

"No; why?"

"Talks like one. He couldn't do better. He'll give the word soon, and the sooner the better. I've got my wind now. 'Member the master and the young missus, lads."

There was a growl from his companions, and as Mark glanced at them he felt that it would go hard with any one among the enemy who came within reach of their pikes.

The enemy had, however, now descended from the top of their wall, and only their heads and breasts were visible, as, ten strong now, they stood in a row, with their pikes resting upon the top; ready to thrust at the first who came within reach.

"Now, my lads," cried Sir Edward; "have you all got your wind?"

"Ay!" ran along the crescent line.

"You with the powder, and the two centre men stand fast till you are wanted."

This order was obeyed as the next was given, and headed by Sir Edward and his son, the party made steadily for the wall, at first slowly and gradually increasing the pace, till Sir Edward cried, "Charge!" and they broke into a trot, the fastest speed to be attained to upon such a slope.

Then, amidst shouts of hatred and mocking defiance from the marauders, there was the clash of steel, and the heavy rattling noise made by the pike-staves, as, thrusting and stabbing, the attacking party strove to win their way over the wall. Sir Edward led his men bravely, while, in a wild fit of excitement, Mark, young as he was, strove to show the Darley men that he was worthy to be their leader.

A fierce rage filled these men, fresh from the ruined home, and half mad with desire to revenge themselves upon those who had given them their wounds; but all along it was the same; they were at a terrible disadvantage in their approach, their enemies having their undefended bodies as marks for their weapons, while they had only head and shoulders to strike at, the rest of their bodies being safe, behind the strong breastwork.

Then, too, feeling secure in this approach to their stronghold, the marauders stood firm, waiting their opportunities, and then thrusting home, with the result that several of their assailants went down, and at the end of five minutes' vain attack, Sir Edward ordered the men to draw back a few yards, and with some difficulty he and his son, by rushing before them, and thrusting up their pikes, induced them to obey.

"This is useless, Mark," he said anxiously. "They are too strong for us. Take the extreme right next time we advance, and I will take the left. Then as soon as they are well engaged in front, you, with two men must try to get in over your end, and drop over amongst them from the side, and I will do the same. Do you dare to do that?"

"I feel as if it is horribly risky," replied the boy, "but I'll try."

"Then you will do it," said Sir Edward quietly. "Choose your men, and I will do the same."

Five minutes later, amidst the mocking jeers of the men behind the breastwork, a fresh attack was made, and as Mark reached the front, he ducked down to avoid a thrust from a lance, crept close to the wall and, followed by Nick Garth and Ram Jennings, turned the end of the stones, climbed on, and reached the stone-strewn cliffs behind.

Then, knowing that the two men, in their fierce energy and hate, would be quite close, Mark turned suddenly, drew himself up, sword in hand— his followers letting their pikes slip through their hands, and holding them close up to the heads—and leaped down inside the breastwork, his father simultaneously coming over at the other flank.

There was not much force in either attack, but it proved effectual by its suddenness, throwing the defenders into confusion.

These rallied directly, and pikes were swung round and directed at the flanking parties, but the momentary check gave the men in front the opportunity to rush close up to the breastwork, which now became their protection, the defenders, having fallen back, becoming in turn exposed.

The fight now became furious, for the marauders began to back toward the mouth of the cave, giving way step by step, as the length of their line was gradually contracted by one after another dashing in, till all had passed into the narrow passage, the first men blocking the way with the heads of their pikes, while their fellows stooped and crept beneath, till the last was in safety. It is needless to say that an attempt to follow would have meant instant death.

A cheer now rose from the attacking party, who had achieved the taking of the outwork, and Sir Edward forced his way to his son's side, to clap him on the shoulder, as he stood just out of reach of the defenders' bristling pikes, which effectually barred the way.

"We have them now, Mark," he cried. "Pass the word there for Daniel Rugg."

But a low growl on the other side of the wall told that there was no need to pass any word. As soon as he saw that there was a chance for the next step, Dan had signed to Dummy, who trotted forward with lantern, fuse, and powder-bag, and father and son climbed into the little fort a few feet away from the opening into the cavern.

"Silence!" roared Sir Edward now—"you within there, lay down your arms, and march out at once."

A defiant yell came from the holders of the pikes, enraging Nick Garth to such an extent that he picked up a block of stone from the top of the breastwork, raised it above his head, and dashed it into the doorway, Ram Jennings following suit with another.

The stones crashed in among the pikes with plenty of rattling, and a burst of yells followed as the men picked up a couple more.

"Stop, there," cried Sir Edward sternly. "You can do no good, and I want the wall left sound for our own protection."

Nick growled savagely, but he obeyed, and the men all stood fast at the cavern's mouth with presented pikes, ready to attack if any movement was made by the defenders, while Dan Rugg and his son quickly prepared their missile.

"Ready," shouted Dan from where he stood inside the wall with, his back to the men, and with Dummy looking intensely interested standing ready with the lantern.

"You, in there," cried Sir Edward now, "will you surrender?"

"No," cried a hoarse voice from inside. "Go back with your ragged pack of hungry hounds, or we'll come and burn you out as we did the other idiot."

"Once more," cried Sir Edward, who still hesitated to proceed to the sternest measures; "will you give up your prisoners and surrender?"

"Bah! Laugh at him, boys," cried the same hoarse voice: and another derisive yell arose.

"Out with you, my lads," cried Sir Edward; and his men sprang over the wall again.

"You too, Mark," said Sir Edward; and Mark followed, while Dan Rugg came close up with his bag of powder and fuse carefully tied in.

"Lay it as near as you can, so as to be out of reach of the pikes."

"No good, Sir Edward," said the man in a husky whisper. "Out with you. I'm going to light the fuse, and go right close, and heave it in over their pikes."

"But that is too dangerous for you."

"Not it. I know to a quarter of a minute when it will fire, and I shall hold it till then. That'll give me time to jump the wall. Quick, sir, please."

It was no time for hesitation, and feeling that his old servant at the mine could be trusted, Sir Edward climbed the wall, and Dummy, showing his teeth in a satisfied grin, opened the door of the lantern.

The next moment Dan had held the end of the short fuse he had provided to the candle, and a slight spluttering began.

"Over with you," growled Dan, as his son snapped to the lantern door.

"Take care of yourself, daddy," said the boy coolly.

"You be off," growled Dan, and Dummy placed the lantern on the top of the breastwork, and vaulted over amongst the men, who were crouching down behind, to be out of the blast.

All this had taken place unknown to the defenders, who, from the narrowness of the entrance, were shut off from seeing the quaint, sardonic face of the old miner, as he stood holding the bag, with the burning fuse spluttering and sending up its curls of greyish smoke.

The men held their breath, and Mark's eyes dilated as he watched the brave old fellow holding the bag, in the full knowledge that if he held the powder a moment too long he must be shattered to pieces.

It was a combination of the familiarity which breeds contempt and the confidence born of long experience which made Dan Rugg stand there so coolly for what seemed to be a long time before turning as he watched the burning fuse.

"Heads down there," he said suddenly; "she's going off."

There was a quick movement, but Mark felt as if he was held by a nightmare dream, and he stood there watching, as the old man took a couple of steps forward, and now for the first time in full sight of those who held the fence of cross pikes.

In an instant there was a wild yell, and the pikes went down with their heads to the stones, and disappeared, but it was as Dan Rugg raised the bag above his head, and hurling it right into the cavern passage, he started aside to the shelter of the wall, while now by a step aside Mark also reached shelter. Then there was a roar and a burst of flame and smoke came as from the mouth of a cannon, and the men sprang up again to cheer.

"Steady—steady!" cried Sir Edward. "Now, my lads, over the wall with you, and follow me; never mind the smoke. Rugg, have another charge ready; we shall want it soon."

"Ay, Sir Edward, that was a failure. I didn't hold it long enough. They had time to get away."

Sir Edward and his son entered the murk, and had to feel their way, and halted.

"Light torches," cried Mark: and half-a-dozen were lit and passed in, when once more the party advanced, expecting to be attacked, but the blast had produced a scare, though it had done no serious harm, save tearing down a few stones, and instead of attacking, the marauders stood on their defence in the place familiar to Mark and some of the men.

There was again the same bristling array of pikes in the opening; and after a renewed summons to surrender, the old miner proceeded coolly to prepare a second bag of powder.

This was fired, but the explosion did not take place till some time after the defenders of the cavern had retreated; and for a while the passage was so stifling with the fumes that it was impossible to go on, so the party had to draw back to allow them to be dissipated.

At last it was deemed prudent to proceed, and once more the advance was ordered, the men eagerly obeying; and with torches adding their smoke to that already hanging in the gloomy cracks and vaults, they pressed on till once more the way was blocked.

It was no array of spear-points in a narrow passage, but in this case the solid blocking of a wall of stone, built-up with care, the stones well wedged in, a narrow opening left for the retreat of the defenders having been filled up since their last retreat, and the wonder to those who examined it was that it had been so quickly secured.

The choice of position, though, had been well made, for the passage was not above four feet wide at this point, and the roof had sunk till it was in this particular spot only five in height.

Once more the powder was brought forward by Dummy, the bag laid close to the bottom stones, the fuse added, and lit, and the party retired to a safe distance, to wait until the powder had swept the barrier away.

The explosion was long in coming, and when it did, with a mighty roar, an hour had to be passed before another advance was made, but no farther than the wall, which was found apparently quite uninjured, though the powder had brought down a huge mass from the roof.

"Pull it down," said Sir Edward impatiently, and a couple of the men— there was no room for more—attacked the well-fitted stones, but only for one to start back with a cry of rage and pain, his hand to his side.

"Hurt?" cried Mark excitedly, and he ran to the man's aid, to be sent staggering back by a heavy blow.

It was Sir Edward's turn to rush to his son, and he too reeled as he received a thrust, but in the case of both, the pike-thrusts did not penetrate their clothes, the point of the weapon having been turned, unknown to the man who used it, by a thrust against the rock.

It was a warning, and throwing the light of the torches well upon the built-up wall, a couple of the men found the holes through which the thrusts had been made, and advancing cautiously to send their pikes through, had to leap back again, for the enemy thrust at them. Nick struck in turn, though, and a yell of pain told that it was not without effect.

"Keep back," cried Sir Edward, as his men advanced recklessly, and when the wounded man had been drawn away and carried out, after a rough bandage had been applied to his wound, Sir Edward turned to his son.

"You must be hurt, my boy," he whispered.

"I was, father, horribly."

"But I mean wounded."

"Only my doublet," said the lad merrily. "What are we to do now?"

After a few moments' thought, as Nick Garth had been so able, Sir Edward decided to let him try again, which he eagerly did, feigning so as to draw a thrust from the enemy, and darting aside and close up to the wall. Then, as the man withdrew his pike, Nick, holding his own short, thrust it through after it, and again there was a yell of pain, but almost at the same moment Ram Jennings was just reached by a thrust through another hole, and sprang back, roaring like a wild beast.

"Yah! don't howl like that," cried Nick angrily; "do as I do."

But poor Ram Jennings preferred to stand nursing his injured arm, and watching his fellow ramming away with his pike, as if loading a gun, till suddenly it was jerked out of his hand, and drawn through the wall.

"Look at that," he growled. "Here, give's hold of another."

But Sir Edward ordered him back.

"It's of no use, my lad," he cried; "come away."

"All very well to say come away, captain," growled the man, as he stood close up, "but if I stir, I shall get a hole through me."

Sir Edward saw the man's difficult position, and gave an order in a low tone, when every man bearing a light ran back and round one of the corners, leaving the cavern in darkness.

Nick took advantage thereof, and sprang away from his perilous position. The rattle of a pike-staff against the stones told that a thrust had been made at him in the darkness.

"Are you hit?" cried Mark anxiously.

"Ay, youngster, but on'y with the staff," growled Nick; and the order for the lights to be brought back was given and obeyed.

"Another, Rugg," said Sir Edward laconically, and Dan, who had a bag ready, primed with fuse, laid it on the stony floor, picked it up on the point of a pike, and advanced to place it against the wall.

A couple of thrusts were made at it directly, but he lowered it, and the enemy could not force their points down low enough to reach it. But as Dan placed it against the bottom of the wall the pikes were aimed now at his breast.

"Back!" roared Sir Edward, as Mark rushed at the man to drag him away.

"All right, Master Mark," said Dan coolly; "my arms and my pike are as long as theirs. They can't reach me. They've got all the thickness of the wall to push through as well;" and he coolly placed the powder-bag and arranged the fuse ready for being lighted.

"I did not think of that, Dan," said Mark.

"Ay, but I did," said the old fellow, chuckling. "Now, Dummy, my boy, son, bring a lighted torch."

Dummy trotted forward, and they heard a growl from beyond the wall, as the miner thrust the point of his pike into the end of the torch, and then reached out toward the fuse, but only succeeded in getting it half-way before it was knocked off the point of his weapon.

"Ah, deal o' good that's done," growled Dan, trying to drive the point of his pike into the torch again. "There," he shouted, "run for it; I can reach to pitch it up to the bag."

The men on the other side did not grasp the fact that if Dan did this his companions would fare worse than they, but scuffled off at once, their steps being plainly heard.

"Fools!" growled Dan, and stepping forward, he picked up the torch, went close up to the wall, and touched the end of the fuse, which began to sparkle at once.

"Plenty o' time, Sir Edward," he said coolly, "if you'll now order us back."

The order was given, and as it was obeyed, Sir Edward and his son retiring last, they saw Nick Garth step close up to old Dan and pat him on the shoulder.

"You're a cool one, mate," he said. "I never see one as cool as you."

Dan chuckled a little, and all went along the narrow passage and into the chamber beyond, well out of reach of the blast, and waited.

It was a good two minutes before the explosion took place, and Mark had made perfectly sure that the fuse had gone out, when there was a sensation as if his breath was being sucked away, then a deafening roar, followed by a crash.

Again they had to wait till the fumes had somewhat dispersed. Then, with Sir Edward and Mark leading, they returned, expecting to see the wall demolished; but as far as they could see it was perfectly sound, while another huge mass from the roof had come down, to lie piled up before it, so that there was hardly room for a man to crawl over the heap, so close was it to the roof.

"It's of no use, Mark," whispered Sir Edward, as they drew back a little from the smoke, "we must devise some other plan. It is useless to try another bag there without first clearing away the mass of stones, and we can only do that at the expense of many men wounded by pike-thrusts, perhaps killed."

"Yes," said Mark, "and it doesn't seem fair to order them to do it."

"I cannot, my boy. There, we have done our work for this time. Let's get out of this horrible smoke."

"Hoi, you!" came from beyond the wall; "if you fire any more of that choke-dog stuff, I'll give orders to my men to kill the prisoners, 'specially the girl."

"You cowardly ruffian!" cried Mark, in a rage.

"Bah! Puppy!" came back scornfully.

"Don't answer, boy," said Sir Edward softly.

"But father!—if—"

"It is only a boast. They dare not do such a thing as that. Come."

They retired, making for the mouth of the cavern, where the cool night air blew with refreshing force.

"But we cannot give up, father," cried Mark.

"I am not going to give up, my boy," said Sir Edward quietly. "When an assault upon a stronghold fails, a general tries to starve his enemy into submission. We must do the same here. Unfortunately they must have stores, and they have a good supply of water from a spring within there. But still we must try. The first thing is to protect ourselves from a sudden attack, and this will be easy. Now, my lads, every man take in a block of stone, and carry it into the cavern as far as the end of the first chamber. Take these from the breastwork; we do not want it now, for we shall encamp inside."

Mark nodded approval, and the men, glad that the night's fighting was at an end, set to work with a will, after laying their arms aside; and in less than an hour had walled up to a great thickness the narrow exit from the cavern, wedging in the top stones with blows, and in spite of the want of mortar producing a good solid piece of work, through which no pikes could be thrust.

This done, Sir Edward reduced his force to one-third, this being plenty to defend the wall should it be attacked from the inner side; and the rest were sent back to the Tor Castle, for provisions and blankets.

"Now, Mark, lad," said Sir Edward, "the thing to consider is, how long can the enemy hold out?"

"Not long, father," replied the lad; "they cannot have a very good supply."

"That," said Sir Edward, "remains to be proved."



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

PREPARATIONS FOR A SIEGE.

Siege was now commenced, Ergles being to all intents and purposes an impregnable natural castle. Provisions and other necessaries were brought up, and the force was divided into three watches, who regularly mounted guard in the chamber in front of the wall. But the whole of the next day passed without a sound being heard, the enemy not attempting to break down their own side, for fear of getting into a trap, the utter stillness being interpreted to mean a ruse to get them to make an opening through which an attack would be made.

Then another day was passed, and still all was quiet; but toward the middle of the next those on guard in the chamber heard, and reported to Mark, that they could hear the distant sound of stones rolling down, and Mark went and listened so as to determine whether his father ought to be roused, for after a very long watch he had lain down upon a blanket to sleep.

"I wouldn't call un, Master Mark," said Dan. "He's tired enough. Watches twice to our once. Let the hounds come; we could account for 'em if they tried to pull our wall down."

"Well, it would be plenty of time to awaken my father if they came and tried," said Mark. "Look here, then, we'll wait; and let it be in perfect silence, so that we may hear if they come as far as the other side of the wall."

The men were as obedient to his orders as to those of Sir Edward, and they all sat or lay about, with their weapons close to their hands, listening in the darkness, the calm and silence being good for thought; and before long Mark's brain was at work thinking about the state of affairs at the castle, to which he had been three times since the siege began, to see his sister and learn how Ralph Darley was progressing.

The news was always bad, Master Rayburn shaking his head and looking very serious.

"Bad hurts, Mark, boy," he said, "bad hurts. I hope, please God, he may be spared; but I have my fears."

"Master Rayburn!" cried Mark wildly. "Oh! you must not—you shall not let the brave fellow die."

"I'd give my poor old life to save his," said the old man sadly. "We can only wait and hope."

And as Mark sat in the dark natural chamber formed in the old limestone hill, he recalled Ralph's white, fire-scarred face, looking pale and unnaturally drawn, and wondered that he should feel so low-spirited about one who was an enemy and almost a stranger, till his musings were interrupted by a dull sound on the other side of the wall—a sound which came after the long period of utter silence which had succeeded to the noise made by forcing out and rolling down stones.

No one else heard the faint sound, and setting it down to fancy, Mark was thinking again about the prisoners within, and wondering what treatment they were receiving from the enemy.

It seemed hard enough for Sir Morton Darley, but Mark could not help feeling how terrible it must be for a delicately sensitive girl.

Then once more he heard that sound, which he felt sure could only be caused by a foot kicking against a stone.

Just then there was a faint rustling, a hand was laid upon his arm, and Dummy whispered:

"Hear that, Master Mark?"

"Yes. Don't talk," whispered Mark, and the two lads, who were well upon the alert, listened in perfect silence, till all at once there was a faint gleam of light, so feeble that it could hardly be distinguished, but there it was, close to the roof, and Mark was satisfied that it must come over the top of their defensive wall.

Then all was still for a minute or two, till the two mentally saw what was taking place—some one was passing his hands over the built-up stones, and trying whether one of them could be dislodged.

Then all was still again, and the light died out.

It was not till hours after that any further sound was heard, and this time Sir Edward was awake and about, passing from the dark chamber where the sentries were on guard to the light outside, and back again.

Mark went with him, and Sir Edward had just happened to say in a whisper:

"All quiet enough now," when a voice, apparently close to his elbow, said hoarsely:

"No. I'm not going to walk into a trap."

There was a good deal in those few words, for to Mark, among other things, they meant that if the speaker was not going to walk into a trap, it was because he must have food enough to last him for some time longer, and was not willing to lay down his arms.



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

DUMMY RUGG HAS THE THINKS.

The blockade was strictly kept up at the mouth of the cavern, Sir Edward having cast aside, at all events for the time being, every feeling of enmity; and in spite of the many disappointments, he grew day by day more determined to rout out the gang, and rescue their prisoners. "Only tell me what to do, Mark, my boy, and if it is possible, it shall be done. If we go on blasting the place we shall end by shutting them in beyond recovery," said Sir Edward, "a good enough thing to do as far as the ruffians are concerned, but we shall destroy Sir Morton Darley and his child."

"I can't think of anything, father," said Mark, gloomily. "I suppose we can only wait."

"That is the conclusion I always come to, my boy. All we can do is to be perfectly ready for the moment when, utterly desperate, they will surrender or break out."

"I hope they'll fight, father," said Mark grimly. "Why?"

"Because it would be so horrible for them to surrender. I'd rather see them die fighting."

"Yes," said Sir Edward, frowning heavily. "Hanging prisoners was all very well a hundred years ago. We don't want to do that sort of thing nowadays. There, run over to the Tor, and see how things are going. You need not hurry back. Tell Mary I shall come myself to-morrow, and that I'm getting very tired of sleeping in a cavern."

"But suppose the men try to break out while I'm gone, father."

"Well, if they do, I shall have all the honour of the fight."

"But I shall not like that," said Mark.

"I might say the same to you to-morrow, my boy," said Sir Edward, smiling. "Go and see how young Darley is; we cannot give up everything to this business."

Mark started for home, leaving his father with a strong enough guard to master the men if they attempted to escape; and before he had gone fifty yards, Dummy came trotting after his young master like a dog.

"Hullo! what is it, Dummy?" cried Mark, stopping short.

"Only coming home with you, Master Mark. Saw you, and father said he didn't want me."

"Oh, very well. Getting tired of it?"

"Ever so, Master Mark. I liked it when we were firing the powder, or having a bit of a fight, but it's so stupid to be doing nothing but sit down and watch a wall, like dogs after rabbits that won't ever come."

"Yes," said Mark, with a sigh, "it is weary work."

"Father says he don't believe they'll ever come."

"But they must, when they've finished their food."

"He says they've got such lots. They've been at work, he says, for twenty miles round, as he knows, and they've stored up sacks of meal and corn, and sides of bacon, and hams, and pickle-tubs of pork. There aren't no end to the stuff they've got, and then they've plenty of good water, both warm and cold."

"Oh, don't talk about it," cried Mark; "it makes me feel as bad as can be."

Dummy settled down into the mood which originated his name during the rest of the way, and the lads parted as they reached the Tor, Dummy to go down the steps to the mine to see how everything looked, and report to his father upon his return, and Mark to hurry up to his room, where Ralph Darley lay insensible still, and where he had a very warm reception from his sister and Master Rayburn.

"Then you have taken the place at last, Mark," cried Mary.

"No," said the lad, frowning, "and we're not likely to take it. I say, Master Rayburn, isn't he a long time getting better?"

"Yes," said the old man gravely, "and perhaps after all it is a mercy that he remains insensible. Poor fellow! it would be horrible for him, in his weak state, to lie fretting because he could not go to the help of his father and sister."

Mark conveyed his message about Sir Edward's intentions for the following day, and he was bending down over the sufferer's pillow, thinking how very much he was changed, when there was a tap at the door, and an announcement that Dummy Rugg must see Master Mark directly.

"I must go, Mary," said Mark excitedly. "Some one has come over after us."

"Oh Mark!" cried the girl, looking startled, and clinging to him.

"Don't do that," cried the lad. "Be brave; I'll take all the care I can."

"Yes," said Master Rayburn to him, with a sad smile, "you will take all the care you can. I know what you are, Mark, but do try, boy, not to be rash."

Mark promised, and hurried down and out into the courtyard; but there was no Dummy visible till he had passed the second, and found him seated on a block of stone, whistling, and swinging his legs to and fro.

"What is it? some one come to fetch us?" cried Mark excitedly.

"No: nobody aren't come," said the boy, looking at him fixedly.

"Then why did you send for me?" cried Mark angrily.

"'Cause I wanted you, Master Mark, very bad indeed."

"Here, what do you mean? What's the matter with you?"

"Got the thinks, very bad."

"Dummy!"

"Yes, Master Mark, I was took with 'em as soon as I got as far as the powder store. It all come at once."

"What do you mean?"

Dummy was perfectly silent, but not perfectly still; for as he stared straight in Mark's face in a peculiarly stolid way, he kept on swinging and jerking his legs till he seemed as if some one was pulling a string to make him act like a jumping toy.

"Look here, stupid-head," cried Mark angrily, but only to break into a laugh, half of amusement, half of vexatious contempt, "are you going mad?"

"I dunno, Master Mark. Perhaps I am. There's something keeps on buzzing in my head like a wheel going round."

"You've been out too much in the sun."

"No, I aren't. I've been down the mine in the dark."

"And got frightened?"

"Not as I knows on, Master Mark. It's the thinks."

"Here, what do you mean, thick-head? I can't stop here listening to your nonsense."

"'Taren't nonsense, Master Mark," said the boy, giving him a peculiar stare.

"What is it, then?"

"I want to know where that water goes to yonder in the mine."

"What! do you mean to say you've had me fetched out to tell me that?"

Dummy nodded, and Mark doubled his fist.

"I've got it, Master Mark."

"Got what, you idiot?"

"We're up ever so much higher here than they are at Ergles, yonder, aren't we?"

"Higher? Of course," said Mark, looking at the lad curiously; "but what of that?"

"That's what I wanted you to tell me, Master Mark, and that's it then."

"What's what then?"

"Why, that water in the mine where we went along, and was under us when we went to sleep—that goes along under ground, right under the moorland, and it comes out again in Ergles Dale."

"Do you think it goes in that direction?"

Dummy nodded.

"Well, but suppose it does, what then?"

"I'm sure it does now, Master Mark, and what the thinks have made me see's this: if you and me had kept going on instead of sitting down, and eating and drinking till we went fas' asleep, we should have found ourselves in Ergles Hole, and if it hadn't been for the Purlrose gang, we might have worked back 'bove ground."

"Why, Dummy! I don't know—yes, if it's that way—goes for miles. I say, perhaps you're right."

"Yes, I'm right," said the boy quietly; "but you don't jump about a bit: you aren't glad."

"Glad? Jump about? Why should I? Oh!"

"Haw—haw—haw!" laughed Dummy. "He can see it now. Why, it come to me, Master Mark, like a flash of lightning."