"Oh, Dummy, I'll never call you a thick-head again," cried Mark excitedly.

"Why not? May if you like: I don't mind."

"Then you think," cried the lad, who was trembling now with excitement, "that we might get into Ergles through our mine?"

"Sure I do—all along them grotters and passages."

"And take the ruffians by surprise?"

"Ketch 'em asleep, Master Mark. They'd never think of our coming behind, like."

Mark seized the boy by the shoulders, and shook him as hard as ever he could.

"Why, you stupid old, ugly old, cleverest fellow that ever was! Why didn't you think of this before?"

"Couldn't, Master Mark," cried the boy, grinning as if he were determined to display every tooth in his head; "it never come till this morning. Right, aren't I?"

"Right! You must be. But suppose we can't get all the way?"

"Water does. Sure to be plenty of room. See how there always was."

"Hurrah! Then we'll go at once."

"What, us two?"

"Of course!"

"We couldn't fight all that lot. Six to one!"

"No; we must go and tell my father at once."

"That's best way," said Dummy, jumping off the stone. "Come on," and they started off at once for the tiny camp, discussing the possibility of the men finding the way through.

"Suppose they got into the mine, and attacked the Black Tor while we're away?"

"No fear o' that, Master Mark," said Dummy, with another of his nice open smiles. "Not many folk as would go and do what we did."

"No, I suppose not," said Mark thoughtfully.

"I'm sort of used to it, Master Mark, from always being down the mine, and always wanting to see where every hole went. No, I don't think any o' them would care to go. Too big and clumsy. They'd never get there."



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

PLAYING MOLE.

Sir Edward met them as they ascended the slope, Mark having been taking mental notes all the way of the trend of the hills and the valley, seeing for certain that, in spite of its bulk and height, Ergles was a good deal lower than the range along the valley of the Gleame.

Their narrative of adventure below was listened to in silence, and Sir Edward grew moment by moment more interested till the whole was told.

"I don't think there is a doubt of it," he said. "We are quite three hundred feet lower here, and in all probability it is the same underground stream as we have at the Tor; but whether it will be possible to get right through into this cavern is more than we can judge till we have tried."

"But you will try, father?"

"Of course, my boy," cried Sir Edward; "and at once. Here, we must have Daniel Rugg, and hear what he says."

Dummy fetched his father, who listened in turn without a word.

"Sounds well, Rugg," said Sir Edward.

"Yes, Sir Edward; sounds well."

"But is the grotto likely to run so far?"

"Lots on 'em do. There's one yonder up in the Peak as goes for miles, and they've never yet found the end, nor where the water goes."

"Well," said Sir Edward, after a few minutes' thought; "I'm afraid to be too sanguine. This may all end in disappointment; but it shall be tried."

"Now, at once, I s'pose, Sir Edward?"

"Now, at once."

Ten men were chosen for the expedition, and Mark noted with satisfaction that Dan Rugg put forward those who had been accustomed to work in the mine.

"Better for getting along, Master Mark," said the miner, on seeing that Mark took notice of his action.

"But will ten be enough, Dan?"

"Why not, sir? Ten, and me and Dummy's twelve, and you and Sir Edward fourteen. Well, perhaps it would be as well to have a couple more."

Garth and Jennings were selected without having the slightest notion of where they were going, but they took their places without a word, only too glad to have some change from the monotonous existence they had been leading for many days.

No embargo was placed upon their way of marching, and they tramped eagerly on, till the occupants of the Castle were startled by their sudden arrival, to share in the surprise of their fellows when orders were given for rations to be supplied to each man, after a good meal had been eaten.

Half-an-hour after, well provided with picks, hammers, big nails for driving in the cracks, either for foot-hold or to bear ropes, the whole party were descending into the mine, with Dummy promoted, from his knowledge, to the onerous post of guide, leading, and Mark by his side or following next, according to the state of the way.

The men were in excellent spirits, for by this time the object of the expedition had oozed out, and it gave them a feeling of confidence now that the attack was to be made through the mine, where they were all much at home.

There was the rumour, too, that they were to take the enemy by surprise where there would be no barricades or breastworks, and altogether the men moved on after their young guides in the highest of spirits, feeling as they did that at last the petty war was to be brought to a conclusion.

The ways through the old galleries and chambers of the mine were traversed with the men talking and laughing, and reminding one another of this or that particular working where the lead ore was rich; and Dummy strode in front, bearing his lantern well, and his importance ill. For he was to all intents and purposes the originator and head man of the little campaign, till suddenly casting his eyes sidewise he caught sight of Mark looking at him in an amused way, which discharged all his conceit upon the instant, as he flushed up and changed back to the old Dummy at once.

"You shouldn't laugh at a poor fellow, Master Mark," he remonstrated in a whisper.

"Then you shouldn't strut along like a game-cock just come in for his spring feathers."

"I didn't," said Dummy angrily.

"You did. But go on. I will not laugh at you any more."

A complete change came over the boy, and he went on gravely enough after the reproof, till, to the surprise of all, they were led into the chamber hung with the veils of stalactite, where Dummy stopped and looked round.

"Well, my lad, what does this mean?"

Dummy smiled in a rather imbecile way, and his father nudged him heavily with his elbow.

"Don't you hear what Sir Edward says? What you come here for? Lost your way?"

"No, I aren't lost my way, father."

"Then go back and show us. Where is it? Down by the old workings?"

"Nay, this is right," said the boy, in high glee at his father's puzzled look; and giving Sir Edward a wave of the hand, he went on to the end, and passed behind the stony veil dropping from near the roof.

Sir Edward, uttered an ejaculation, and turned to his son.

"You have been by here, then?" he cried.

"Yes, father; this is the way," replied Mark. "Follow him."

"No, keep with him yourself," said Sir Edward. "You are the guides. But be silent now."

"There is no need yet," replied Mark; "we have a tremendously long way to go yet."

"Let there be silence," said Sir Edward sternly. "For aught we know, these men, if the grottoes do communicate, may be exploring on their own account, and sound runs curiously along these passages."

Mark accepted the rebuke, and joined Dummy at once, the rest of the party followed, and at a word from Sir Edward, raised their pikes and advanced steadily, as if expecting at any moment to meet the foe.

But many hours seemed to have elapsed, during which they had climbed, descended, squeezed through narrow upright cracks, and crawled, as the two lads had crawled before, ere they reached the limpid pool where their guides had rested and gone to sleep.

Here, at a word from Mark, Sir Edward gave the word to halt for refreshment, while, in company with the two lads, he made a farther advance, and planted two men at intervals along the route they took, following the flow of the underground stream, whose musical gurgling grew very plain at times.

The second man was posted a good two hundred yards beyond the first, and made no objection to being left in the dark, showing Dan Rugg's wisdom in selecting miners for the task in hand.

Then, silently and with great caution, Dummy led on along a wild chasm of the same nature as others they had passed, and formed, evidently during some convulsion, the encrinite marble of which the walls were composed matching exactly, and merely requiring lateral pressure and the trickling of lime-charged water to become solid once again.

About three hundred yards beyond the last sentinel the trio paused, and stood listening and gazing as far as they could across a rock chamber whose sides glittered with double prismatic crystals.

But there was the water gurgling at the bottom of the deep crack along which they passed—nothing more; and they returned toward the pool, Sir Edward giving the men a word or two of caution, and then passing on to the others who were whispering to each other as they ate their food.

It was too good an example not to be followed, and soon after, quite refreshed, Sir Edward gave the order for a fresh start, the way being doubly interesting now that it was all fresh ground to the guides. In addition, it became more difficult, for the formation began now to change, and instead of being a succession of narrow crack-like passages—in almost every variety of inclination between the horizontal and perpendicular, and rock grotto-like chambers of varying extent—the road began to fork and break up into vast halls, from which more than once they could hardly find an exit.

But Dummy was invaluable, and there was a kind of triumph in his face when he pointed out how easy it was to go on if you listened for the trickling of the stream below.

At last, after passing through a long succession of scenes that were as wondrous as strange, Sir Edward called upon the boy to stop, and upon Dummy coming back to his side, lantern in hand, "Do you think you can find your way back?" he asked.

"Yes, with my eyes shut," said the boy, smiling.

His tones chased away his master's feeling of uneasiness, and he went on:

"That's a good boy; but what about your notion of this place leading into the cavern where those ruffians are? We must be far past Ergles, even if we are in the right direction."

"No," said Dummy confidently, as his father, who now came up, lantern in hand, looked doubtful too.

"Why do you say no, boy?" said Sir Edward.

"Because we've got among the same sort of rock as you find at Ergles."

"Good, lad!" burst out Dan Rugg. "That's minding your teachings. But are you right?"

"Yes, father: look," said the boy, holding up his lantern toward the glittering roof of the hall in which they stood. "There it is: Blue John."

Dan raised his lantern too, and drew his miner's pick from his belt.

Chink, clash.

There was a sharp blow from the pick, and Dan stooped to take up the piece of rock he had struck off, and handed it to his lord.

"Boy's right, Sir Edward," he said. "Look at that."

"But what has Blue John, whoever he is—Oh, pish! I had forgotten the name of the blue spar. Is there any of it in Ergles?"

"Only place about here where there is any, Sir Edward, and that's a piece."

"Then we may be close to the cavern," said Sir Edward, lowering his voice.

"Or in it, perhaps," said Mark excitedly.

He started, for at that moment Dummy clapped a hand upon his lips, and pointed forward.

"Cover your lanterns," he whispered.

The word was passed along back, and the next moment they were standing in darkness, watching a faint gleam of light in the distance.

It was playing upon the glittering prismatic crystals which covered wall, roof, and floor, and these flashed as the light played upon them, disappeared, and came into sight again from behind a Gothic pillar, was again eclipsed, and once more came into sight; and now, plainly seen, they made out that it was the light of a lantern, which shone upon a man's face as he went slowly along what seemed to be an opening, which led him past where they stood watching.

Then the light seemed to go down toward the floor, lower and lower, as it went on till it passed out of sight, but left a faint glow.

"Let Dummy and me go," whispered Mark to his father.

"Yes. Cautiously. Don't be seen."

Dummy was panting to be off, and keeping his lantern hidden, he felt his way onward toward the glow, keeping tightly hold of Mark's hand, till, as they came nearer, they saw that the man must have been descending a steep rift, and as the light came into sight again, they found that they were standing on the very edge of this place, and that the light was away to their left, twenty feet or so lower, and gleaming upon the surface of a smooth far-spreading pool.



CHAPTER THIRTY.

NEARING DAWN.

The two lads stood there motionless for a time, wondering what the lantern-bearer could be doing, for he evidently had no suspicion of his being watched. Then as they saw that in place of gleaming over the water, the lantern was once more in motion, they crouched down, with their eyes alone over the edge of the clean-cut chasm, feeling that whoever it was must pass just beneath them, when they would be able to see which way he went, and so gain a clue to the robbers' hold.

The light came nearer, and it was plain that whoever bore it was coming very slowly, but they grasped the reason directly, for he was passing over a flooring of slippery crystals, and as he came on they could hear him breathing hard.

As they had anticipated, he came very close beneath them, and Mark felt that if he looked up they would be seen. But he whom they watched walked stooping, and letting the light fall upon the glittering ascending floor, so that at last he was not six feet below them, and Mark said in a quick whisper: "Sir Morton!"

"Great Heavens!" came back in company with a sharp crash, as of an earthenware pitcher falling in shivers upon the rocky floor.

"Hush!"

"Who is it?"

"Friends," whispered Mark.

"Thank Heaven! At last—at last," came up, with a piteous groan, and they heard a heavy fall.

"Quick, Dummy," whispered Mark. "We must go down to him."

"Listen first," said the boy: "p'r'aps some one heard."

But as he spoke there was the sound of a hoarse laugh from a long distance off, and Dummy whispered: "Didn't hear. Been to fetch water, and broke the pitcher. I say, Master Mark, wasn't I right?"

Mark made no reply, for he was lowering himself down over the edge, and directly after he dropped on to the crystals below.

"Show the light, Dummy," he whispered, and the boy lay face downward and swung the lantern down as far as he could reach.

As Mark touched the fallen man's hand he began to recover consciousness.

"Not a dream—not a dream," he murmured. "Whoever you are, have you come to help?"

"Yes; but hush! Purlrose and his men—are they near?"

"Too far to hear us speak; but hide your lights. Now tell me, are you one of those who attacked these wretches?"

"Yes; and we have reached you at last."

"Ah!" sighed the prisoner. "It was time—it was time. I don't know your voice; I could not see your face; but if you know, tell me, for mercy's sake—my poor boy—was he killed?"

"No. Badly wounded, but alive, and he will live."

Mark heard the prostrate man muttering, and felt the hand he grasped trembling violently.

"It puts life into me," he whispered, "when I was nearly spent. Tell me—pray tell me—where is my boy! Not a prisoner?"

"No: safe with us, at the Black Tor."

"Safe—at the Black Tor!" faltered Sir Morton. "Then you are an Eden?"

"Of course: and my father is close by here with a dozen stout men to punish these villains and save you, and—you do not say anything about your child."

There was no reply, and Mark pressed the hand he held, to find that there was no response, and that it was turning wet and cold, for the unfortunate prisoner had been unable to bear the tidings, and had swooned away.

"Go back," whispered Mark, "and tell my father whom we have found."

"Leave the light?" said the boy.

"No, take it. Tell him all you have heard."

The light glided away, and the next minute a faint sigh told that Sir Morton was regaining his senses, his complete recovery thereof being announced by a trembling pressure of the hand.

"Weak," he whispered. "I was badly wounded. So Heaven has sent my greatest enemy to save us."

"Us?" cried Mark excitedly. "Then Ralph Darley's sister is safe."

"Will be, I pray," said Sir Morton feebly. "I, her father, can do no more."

Sir Edward came up, in company with Dan Rugg and five men, approaching cautiously with one lantern; and they were in the act of descending to Mark and the prisoner when a hoarse bullying voice was heard from a distance, the words echoing and reverberating as along a vaulted passage.

"Now then, back to your den, old fool. Don't be a week fetching that water."

"I—I am going back," cried Sir Morton, and then in a whisper—"the light—the light. I will soon return."

He caught at the lantern, and began to move off painfully, while his would-be rescuers stood watching till the light disappeared round a corner, and a minute later the same harsh voice was heard speaking fiercely. Then all was still.

"Hah!" whispered Sir Edward, "at last. Keep all lights covered, Rugg, and go and bring up the rest of the men."

Dan grunted, and they heard his steps as they stood listening. Twice over there came the hoarse sound of laughter, but Sir Morton did not return, and Sir Edward in his impatience was about to order a movement forward, now that all his men were at hand, when from out of the black darkness, close by where Mark stood listening with every nerve upon the strain, the lad heard a slight rustling, then a faint panting sound as of hasty breathing, and a low voice whispered: "Is any one there? Please speak."

"Yes, yes," whispered Mark, and he stepped forward quickly with outstretching hands, which came in contact with one as cold as ice.

"Oh!" gasped its owner, as another hand felt for him and clung to him. "I know your voice, Mark Eden. I am Minnie Darley: pray, pray come and help my father; he is too weak to come back to you."

The voice trailed off into a wail.

"Hush! Don't, pray don't cry," whispered Mark. "Can you guide us to where your father is?"

"Yes; oh yes."

"In the darkness?"

"Yes, I can find my way."

"Can you lead us, my child, to where these ruffians are?" said Sir Edward, who had approached. "We must surprise and make them prisoners first."

"Yes—no, you will kill them," whispered the girl. "It is too treacherous and dreadful."

"My child," said Sir Edward gently, and he stretched his hand forward till he could touch the girl's head, upon which he softly laid his hand; "I have a girl as young and fair as you, and Heaven forbid that she should ever be called upon to perform such an act. But think: it is to save your father's life; to save you from the hands of these treacherous ruffians. You must be our guide."

There was a dead silence for a few moments, and Sir Edward felt his hand taken and held to two soft lips.

"Yes," came gently; "it is to save my poor father. He will die in this terrible place; and I must die too. You do not know, and they would easily kill you if you went without. Yes, I will guide you to where they are. I feel that I must."



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

THE WASPS' NEST.

There was a sound in the darkness as if several men had drawn a deep breath together, and then for a few moments all was very still, so still that Mark started when he heard his father's voice, and felt strange and wondered to hear the gentle tones in which he spoke.

"Do you feel that you can guide us all without lights?"

"Oh, yes; I have been so long in the dark, and have often come with my father to fill the pitcher in that pool below."

"Rugg, you and your boy stay back, and keep the lights hidden," said Sir Edward firmly.

"Oh!" cried the old miner, in a tone full of protest; and then hastily: "Right, Sir Edward."

"And be ready to bring the lanterns, and come to our help when called."

Dan Rugg growled his assent, but Dummy murmured angrily.

"Join yourselves together, my lads," whispered Sir Edward, "by carrying your pikes each with the head upon the shoulder of the man before him— the man behind me to rest his in the same way as I lead. Ready?"

"Ay!" came in a low growl from out of the darkness.

"One word more," said Sir Edward sternly, and his words sent a thrill through Mark. "If the enemy surrenders, show mercy now: if he does not, remember not a man must escape."

A low deep murmur, full of hatred against the destroyers of their homes, came from the miners, and then in the renewed silence Sir Edward said sharply:

"Mark, take this poor child's other hand, and protect her when I am away. Now forward."

A little soft cold hand closed tightly upon Mark's, as he stepped to Minnie's side; and then slowly and silently the party advanced under the girl's guidance for quite two hundred yards through what seemed to be solid darkness, out of which her voice came in a low whisper from time to time.

"Stoop here—a little to the right—to the right once more—now through this narrow opening on the left. Only one can pass at a time: you first."

Mark led, and passed through a rift, to see a feeble glow upon his left, where a candle was stuck against the rock, and beneath it lay a figure, very dimly-seen, while, apparently coming through an opening farther on, they heard the low hoarse sound of voices; and words came suggesting that the speakers were engaged in some game of chance.

Minnie withdrew her hands from her protectors, and hurried to kneel down by the figure in the corner, Sir Edward and Mark following, to bend over the prisoner.

"Too weak," he panted—"I tried to come. Eden! A strange meeting, oh mine enemy! God forgive us all the past; and if when you—come back—a conqueror—for the sake of Him who died—protect my child.—Minnie!" he cried faintly, and the girl sank beside him with a wail.

Sir Edward went down on one knee, sought for, and took his enemy's hand.

"Can you hear?" he whispered.

A feeble pressure was the answer.

"Trust me. I will. Now we are in complete ignorance of the place, and must be guided so as to succeed."

"You need no guidance," said Sir Morton feebly. "Cross yonder—there is an opening: follow the narrow passage for twenty yards, and there is a big chamber-like grotto, and upon your right an archway leading into another smaller chamber. The enemy—are there. You have them as in a trap."

Sir Morton Darley's voice grew a little firmer as he proceeded, and when he, ceased there was a low murmur of satisfaction, and the men's faces, dimly-seen, were turned to Sir Edward for the order to advance.

"Lay your pikes in that corner," he whispered. "It will be close quarters. Draw your swords."

The order had hardly been executed when there came suddenly angry shouts, sounding hollow and strange, multiplied as they were by reverberations.

"They know we are here, father," whispered Mark excitedly. But at that moment came distinctly the words:

"He cheated! A thief!" and the clashing of swords.

"Forward!" said Sir Edward, and closely followed by his son and Nick Garth, whose breath came thickly, he followed the directions given by Sir Morton Darley, guided more by the sounds, to reach the entrance to a natural chamber, with high Gothic roof and walls glittering with crystals, which reflected the light of half—a—dozen candles stuck here and there.

Mark saw all this at a glance, as he grasped the fact that the inmates had broken into two parties, and were contending so fiercely that for a few moments they did not see the doorway crowded with angry countenances, and were only brought to a knowledge of their peril by the rush that was made by all but two of Sir Edward's men, who stayed back to guard the entry and cut off the escape of any who tried to get away.

The encounter was short and fierce, Sir Edward's men dashing forward like a wedge, striking with all their might; and at the end of a couple of minutes' savage encounter, the mercenaries fighting like rats at bay, there was a terrible silence, broken only by muttered curses and groans, while eight men stood erect, half of whom had cast away their swords and fought with their miners' picks.

The scene was ghastly, as shown by two only of the candles, the rest having been knocked down in the struggle.

"Hurt, Mark?" cried Sir Edward from the far end, where he stood sword in hand, supporting himself by the wall, and with his foot resting upon the burly body of Captain Purlrose.

"Not much, father," panted the lad. "Bit of a cut."

"How many escaped? I saw three make for the door."

"None, master," growled Nick Garth, who was upon the floor at the right. "There they lay: those brave lads brought 'em down."

"Shout for the lanterns, Mark, boy," cried Sir Edward; and Mark reeled as he stepped over the bodies lying in the way.

His call was responded to directly by Dan Rugg and his son, both standing aghast for a few moments before energetically setting to work to help their friends, who, saving the two who had guarded the entrance, were wounded to a man, while of Captain Purlrose's party, four and their leader were dead, the others lying disabled to wait their turn of help from their captors, who, now that the rage of battle was at an end, were ready to show mercy to their wounded foes.

Sir Edward was so badly hurt that after a brave struggle he had to give up, and leave the ordering of the work now necessary to his son, who began by having his father borne to the chamber where Minnie crouched, trembling with horror, by her half-insensible father's side; but upon being reassured by the information that her captivity was at an end, she revived, and devoted herself to helping the wounded with all a true woman's zeal.

Mark's next task was to go with Dan Rugg and Dummy to the entrance, wondering the while at the extent of the place and the hoard of all necessaries which the fellows had collected in the cavern.

Upon reaching the wall beyond which the guard were stationed, still in perfect ignorance of what had taken place within, a few shouts set the men to work, the defence was rapidly demolished, and the wounded were borne out into the light—a ghastly procession, though not a man murmured; and as soon as they were laid upon the heather, began to chat eagerly together about the success of the underground expedition.

As for the wounded prisoners, they were kept under guard in the chamber—where the wall had just been destroyed.

The two great enemies were borne out last; and as Mark followed with the trembling girl upon his arm, he looking proud and satisfied, in spite of a stained bandage upon his forehead, and she with her face unnaturally white and her eyes closed, unable to bear the light after so long an imprisonment in the depths of the cavern, Nick Garth raised himself upon his elbow and uttered a shout which rose into a rousing cheer.

"God bless you, Mistress Minnie!" cried the man hoarsely, "and you too, youngster. You're a brave lad, and I'll never call you an enemy again."

"Humph! No," said Dan Rugg, who was close to him. "I s'pose all that's dead as mutton now. Look here, Nick Garth, I never see a man who could fight as well as you, and if you'd got a decent paw I'd say shake hands."

"Say it, mate," said Nick, and he painfully lifted a wounded arm, to place his bandaged hand in that of the old miner who had hated him all his life.

A man had been started off as soon as the news was known to fetch more help from the Black Tor; and, as tidings fly swiftly, assistance soon came from every farm and cottage for miles, the women flocking up to Ergles, and eagerly helping to bear the sufferers to their homes.

Sir Edward and Sir Morton went last, each borne upon a litter, Minnie being provided with a pony, led by one of her father's men, who kept on shaking his head and saying that he couldn't understand it, for it seemed so strange that his master and young mistress and their leaders should be going up to the Black Tor.

He said this to Nick Garth, who was lying with closed eyes upon a roughly-made litter of poles.

"Well," said Nick roughly, "who can? It's 'cause they say the world turns round, and sometimes we're standing on our heads and sometimes on our feet; we're on our heads now, and it's o' no use to kick when your legs are in the air."

There was one more task to see to, though, before Mark left the place, with its plunder in charge of Dan Rugg and a guard, so that the robbers' stores could be restored to their rightful owners.

Over this matter Mark had a whispered consultation with the two wounded knights, and then went off to Rugg.

"Well, yes, Master Mark," said that worthy; "I was thinking o' something o' that sort. Right in that little chamber place. A good thick wall, and well made, with plenty o' lime. It wouldn't seem Christian-like to throw 'em out on the hill among the stones; and you see there's so many ravens and crows."

Dummy Rugg kept as close to Mark as he could in these busy times, and tried several times to speak to him, but without success. At last, though, the opportunity came.

"Oh, Master Mark," he said, in a tone full of reproach; "you ought to have spoke out."

"When? What about?"

"When I was sent back to take care of those nasty old lanterns. But it serves you right. If I'd been there at the fight you wouldn't have been hurt like that."

"And perhaps you'd have been killed. Get out, you ungrateful dog!"

"Dog, am I? Well, it's enough to make me bite."

"Bite away, then, Dummy. I can't lift my arm to hit you now."

"Then I'll wait till you get well again. But it was mean. I never seem to get a chance."

"Well, you are a grumbler, Dummy. Here, you've done what none of us could do—shown us how to end all this trouble, and pleased everybody, and yet you're not happy."

"Happy?" said the boy; "who's to be happy after what I've done? Why, I shan't never dare to come past Ergles now in the dark."

"Why?"

"'Cause old Purlrose and his men'll come popping out to haunt me for getting 'em killed. I shall never like to come by there again."

"They won't come out this way, Dum," said Mark, trying to look very serious; "they'll come the other way, and get into the mine to lie in wait for you in the dark parts, and heave blocks of stones at you."

"Think they will, Master Mark?" gasped the boy, and his eyes and mouth opened wide.

"Sure to."

"Get out: you're laughing at me."

"I'm more disposed to cry; to think of such a stout, brave lad as you should believe such nonsense."

"Nonsense?" cried Dummy. "What, don't you be—believe in ghosts and bor—bogies, Master Mark?"

"Do I look as if I did?" cried Mark contemptuously. "You wait till I get well, and if you tell me then that you believe in such silly old women's tales, I'll kick you."

Dummy grinned.

"You wouldn't," he said. "But I say, Master Mark, think old Purlrose will haunt me?"

"Bah!" ejaculated Mark. "There, come along; I want to get home and let Master Rayburn do something to my bit of a wound. It hurts so I can hardly walk."

"Here, let me carry you, Master Mark. Pig-a-back. I can."

"No, no, Dummy, old lad; but you come to the castle to-morrow, and say you are to walk up and see me. I shall have to be put to bed, I expect, in the same room with young Ralph Darley."

"Then I shan't come," said the boy, scowling.

"Why?"

"'Cause I don't like him, and I don't like to see his father and their girl took there as if they were friends."

"They are now, Dum, and there isn't going to be any more fighting in the vale."

It was a strange scene when the slow procession wound its way up the zigzag, at the top of which Mary Eden and Master Rayburn were waiting with the women and the tiny wounded garrison to receive the fresh party of injured folk.

Mary ran to her wounded father to embrace him, and then to Minnie Darley, to whom she held out her hands, and the people cheered as the two girls kissed.

Mary was about to lead the trembling girl in, but she shook her head and went to her father's side; and then Mary looked round for her brother, and ran to him, as he came up leaning upon Dummy's arm.

"Oh, Mark, darling! hurt?" she cried, flinging her arms about his neck.

"Just a bit," he said, with a sickly smile. "You do as Minnie Darley did. Never mind me; go and stay with father. He's more hurt than he'll own to. Ah, Master Rayburn! brought you some more work, but we've burnt out the wasps."

"My brave boy!" cried the old man, wringing his hands. "There, I'll come to you as soon as I can. I must go to those who are worse."

"Yes, yes," said Mark; "I've got my doctor here. But tell me—young Ralph?"

"Recovered his senses, and asked about his father and sister."

"Come along, Dummy," said Mark faintly; "let's go and tell him we've brought them safe; and then you shall wash and bind up my cut."

He uttered a faint "Ah!" and would have fallen but for the boy's ready arm; and the next minute he was being borne up the steps, pig-a-back after all, though he had scouted the offer before. He had fainted dead away.



CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

A DEAD FEUD.

Time glided away as fast in the days of James the First as it does in the reign of our gentle Queen; and a year had gone by in the quiet peaceful vale, where, to a man, all who had been in the great trouble had more or less quickly recovered from their wounds.

The prisoners were the worst sufferers, and in the great friendly peace brought about between the old lords of the land, partly by their own manly feeling and the love that had somehow sprung up among their children, the greatest of all the Christian virtues took deep root, and flourished in a way that would have put the proverbial green bay tree to shame.

Hence it was that, as very slowly one by one the miserable crippled prisoners, so many wrecks, diseased by their own reckless life and crippled by their wounds, struggled back slowly to a condition in which perhaps a few years were left them for a better life, they were left entirely in Master Rayburn's hands; and first one and then another was sent off with a little money and a haversack of food to seek his friends and trouble the peaceful valley no more.

It took nearly the year before the last of the wretched crew bade farewell to the place, grateful or ungrateful, according to his nature, after going through a long course of physical suffering; and by that time Cliff Castle was pretty well restored, and the two lads, after a long absence, were back home again to the land of mighty cliff, green forest, and purling stream.

It was on one of those glorious early summer mornings when the air seems full of joy, and it is a delight even to exist, that, as the sycamores and beeches in their early green were alive with song, there came a rattle of tiny bits of spar against Mark Eden's casement window, and he sprang out of bed to throw it open and look down upon Ralph Darley, armed with lissom rod over his shoulder and creel on back.

"Oh, I say," he cried, "asleep, and on a morning like this!"

"Yes, but you're too soon."

"Soon? Why, I'm a quarter of an hour late. Be quick, the May-fly are up, and the trout feeding like mad, and as for the grayling, I saw the biggest—oh! do make haste."

"Shan't be long."

"And Mark, tell Mary that father is going to bring Min up about twelve, and they are to meet us with the dinner-basket up by the alder weir. Well, why don't you make haste and dress?"

"I was thinking," said Mark, with a broad smile.

"What about?"

"Oh, here's Dummy with the net," cried Mark. "Hi! you sir! why didn't you come and call me at the proper time?"

"Morn', Master Ralph," said the lad, with a friendly grin. Then with an ill-used look up at the window:

"'Tis proper time. You said six, and it aren't that yet."

"There," cried Mark; "you are too soon."

"Very well. It was so fine; but I say, what were you thinking about?"

Mark grinned again.

"Is it so very comic?" said Ralph impatiently.

"That depends on what you say."

"Well, let's hear."

"I was thinking that you and I have never finished that fight."

"No; you haven't been down to steal our ravens. I say, Mark, what do you say? Shall we? They're building there again."

"Let 'em," said Mark, "in peace."

THE END.