“How can I help it?” said Mark one morning, as he was sauntering down by the river. “I did not mean to meet him, and here he is again. Hallo! he has got a fresh sword.”
The lad instinctively clapped his hand to his side, to feel if he had his own buckled on, though of late, consequent upon the troubled state of the country round, he had never thought of stirring without it.
“Mark Eden!” said Ralph to himself, as he caught sight of his enemy. “Then I suppose now it is going to be our fight. Very well: it is none of my seeking, and I don’t think we shall have Captain Purlrose to stop it.”
They came to a stand about a yard apart, and delivered themselves each of a short nod, but for some moments neither spoke.
“Well,” said Mark at last, “are you ready?”
“Yes,” replied Ralph; “here or somewhere among the trees.”
“Of course. We don’t want to be seen.”
They walked off side by side till they reached a patch of grass, fairly level and free from stones, where they flung their caps on the ground, and drew their swords; a dove high up in view of the cliff breaking out, as if ironically, with a soft, gentle coo. But their minds were too much occupied with war to think of the bird of peace. Then all at once Mark rested his point upon the toe of his high boot.
“Look here,” he said; “if I stop to say something now, will you promise me that you will not think it an excuse to keep from fighting?”
“Let me hear what it is,” said Ralph coldly; and Mark flushed and raised his point again.
“No!” he cried. “Yes: I will say it, and you may think I’m a coward if you like. I don’t care.”
“What is it?” said Ralph, making a dimple on the toe of his boot with his sword point.
“Well, it’s this,” said Mark; “and mind, I’m speaking to you as an enemy.”
“Of course,” said Ralph.
“Old Master Rayburn said to me, that as my father did not put a stop to the doings of this Captain Purlrose, I ought to do it.”
“That’s exactly what he said to me.”
Mark hesitated for a moment or two, and then, as if speaking with an effort, he blurted out:
“And thought I ought to join you, each getting together some men, and going and taking the ruffians by surprise.”
“Yes; and he said all that to me.”
“Oh! Well, it’s quite impossible for us to fight together as friends, isn’t it?”
“Quite,” cried Ralph.
“We did once, though,” suggested Mark.
“Yes, so we did. Well, couldn’t we again if we tried?”
“I don’t know,” said Mark thoughtfully. “We should have to do it in secret if we did.”
“Oh yes; nobody must know, or it would be stopped.”
“Well, I’ve thought a deal about it. What do you say? Shall we try?”
“I will, if you will.”
“And you won’t think I don’t want to fight you now?”
“Well, I can’t help thinking that. You don’t want to, do you?”
Mark frowned, and was silent for a few moments, before saying hurriedly:
“I want to fight the enemy of my house, but I don’t want to fight you in particular. You see, it seems strange, after we’ve fought together against another enemy.”
“It doesn’t seem strange to me,” said Ralph quietly; “it seems stupid.”
“But I’m not afraid.”
“I don’t think I am,” said Ralph. “I think we showed we were not afraid when I wounded you.”
“I wounded you too,” said Mark hotly.
“Yes. Well, then, don’t let’s fight this morning.”
Mark sheathed his weapon, and Ralph did the same.
“Now then,” said the former, “how many men could you get together?”
“Nick Garth, Ram Jennings, and six more.”
“Eight,” said Mark, flushing proudly. “I could get Dan Rugg, Dummy Rugg—he’s only a lad, but he’s stronger than I am. Oh yes: and fourteen more at least.”
“That would not be fair. If you agreed to come and attack the men at Ergles, you would have to bring eight. But could you get swords and pikes for them?”
“Oh yes—for five times as many. How about yours?”
“We’ve plenty of arms. They’re old, but very sharp and good.”
“And could you depend on your fellows to fight?” said Mark.
“Oh yes,” said Ralph, smiling; “they hate these people, and they’d rush at them like dogs would at wolves.”
“So would ours,” cried Mark. “There isn’t one of our men who hasn’t had some relative or friend attacked and ill-used or robbed.”
“Sixteen and ourselves would be plenty.”
“And then there’s Master Rayburn.”
“No,” said Ralph quickly; “he’s getting a very old man, and I don’t think he ought to go. Let’s do it all secretly, and make the men vow not to say a word. Nobody else must know.”
“When would you go?” said Mark, nodding his head in agreement.
“They say you should always strike when the iron is hot.”
“Well, it’s hot enough now,” cried Mark eagerly. “What do you say to to-morrow night.”
“Why not to-night?” said Ralph. “I’m willing. Then we’ll go to-night. What time?”
“It ought to be after our people are gone to bed. We should have to come out unknown.”
“Yes, I forgot that. Then it would have to be ten o’clock first, and it would take us quite an hour to get quietly up to the mouth of the cave.”
“Yes, with a lantern under a cloak, and every man a torch,” said Ralph.
“Oh, I say, you are good at this sort of thing,” cried Mark eagerly. “I shouldn’t have thought of that.”
“We couldn’t fight in the dark; we shouldn’t know friends from foes.”
“We should know our own men, and of course your men would be enemies to my men; but, of course, we shouldn’t want to fight, but to know Purlrose and his men. Yes, we must have pitch torches. I can bring any number of them, for we use them sometimes in the big parts of the mine, where the smoke doesn’t matter. Well, it all seems easy enough. I don’t believe there’ll be a door to batter down, only a curtain across to keep the wind out, and it’s a very narrow place, I remember. I went just inside once.”
“I went in fifty yards or more, with Nick Garth,” said Ralph, “and we had candles. We were looking for lead, but it was all stone shells.”
“Oh, there’s no lead there,” said Mark confidently. “We’ve got all the lead worth working at the Black Tor.”
“Yes, I’m afraid so; but there’s a warm spring of water in there, and from where we stopped, you could hear water running and falling, ever so far-off.”
“But what was it like, as far as you went in?”
“Just as if the mountain had been cracked, and both sides of the crack matched, only sometimes they were two feet apart, and sometimes twenty or more, making big chambers.”
“Yes; some of our mine’s like that,” said Mark thoughtfully. “I say, enemy: think they set any sentries?”
“No, I don’t believe they would.”
“Then we’ll rout them out; and if we can’t do that, we’ll drive them farther in, and pile up big stones at the entrance, and starve them till they surrender.”
“Yes,” cried Ralph eagerly, as he looked at his companion with the same admiration Mark had displayed when he had proposed taking the torches. “Capital: for the place is so big, that I don’t believe we could find them all. Yours will be the way.”
“Well, I think it is right,” said Mark suddenly; “but we must catch old Purlrose to-night.”
“We will if we can,” said Ralph.
“Well then, that’s all. It’s as easy as easy. All we’ve got to do is to get our best men together, and meet—Ah! where shall we meet?”
“At Steeple Stone, half-way there. That will be about the same distance for you to come as for us.”
“That’s good,” cried Mark gleefully. “But we must have a word to know each other by. What do you say to ‘foes?’”
“Oh, that won’t do,” said Ralph. “‘Friends?’”
“But we’re not friends; we’re—we’re—what are we.”
“Allies,” said Ralph quietly.
“Why not that, then? Yes, of course. ‘Allies.’ Can’t be better.”
“‘Allies,’ then,” said Ralph.
“Well, what next?”
“To get the stuff together to fight with,” replied Ralph.
“What, the men? Yes, of course. Then we’d better see to it at once.”
“Yes, in a very quiet way, so that no one knows,” said Ralph.
“And meet at the Steeple Stone about half-an-hour after our people are gone to bed.”
“And the first who are there to wait for the others.”
“Oh, of course,” cried Mark. “Fair play; no going first, and doing the work. That would mean a fresh quarrel.”
“When I fight, I fight fair,” said Ralph proudly.
“I didn’t mean to doubt it,” said Mark apologetically. “I say: this is more sensible than for us two to fight now.”
“Think so?”
“Yes: oh yes; only, of course, our fight has to come. Yes, when these people are cleared off.”
“We can’t have three sets of enemies,” said Ralph gravely; “and I can’t help thinking that if we do not act, they will get more and more daring, and drive us out.”
“Pooh!” said Mark defiantly.
“Ah, I laughed at the idea at first; but they might take Cliff Castle or Black Tor by surprise some night.”
“Well, they might take Cliff Castle,” said Mark, in rather a contemptuous tone, “but not the Black Tor. And they shan’t even try to take either,” he added quickly, as if repenting his words. “We’ll surprise them, and to-night.”
“One moment,” said Ralph. “We must be careful, for it’s quite possible that some of the ruffians may be out on an expedition, and if we met them in the dark, it might cause a serious mistake.”
“We’ll settle all that when we meet,” said Mark. “‘Allies,’ then—to-night.”
“‘Allies’—to-night,” said Ralph; and after stiffly saluting, in the style taught by their fencing masters, the two lads separated, each making for his own home.
Mark’s task proved easy. He went straight to the mine, descended, and found Dummy.
“Coming to go right through the cave beyond the big waterfall, Master Mark?” cried the lad eagerly.
“No,” replied Mark shortly. “Where’s your father?”
“Right away down the mine, in the new lead, Master Mark,” said the lad in a disappointed tone. “Aren’t you never coming to have a hunt?”
“Oh yes, some day.”
“That’s what you always say. There’s lots to see and find out. You know where that water is.”
“Yes: but never mind now.”
“But, Master Mark, I’m sure that it comes from the river, where there’s that sink-hole in the narrow, where you see the water turn round and round.”
“Very likely; but here, I must see your father. Take a light, and go before me. Here, Dummy, are there plenty of torches?”
“Yes, Master Mark; but what do you want with torches?”
“Don’t ask questions, sirrah.”
“Very well, Master Mark,” said the boy, so meekly that his young master was touched, and said gently:
“Look here, Dummy, can I trust you?”
“I dunno, Master Mark. I’ll do what you tell me.”
“That’s right. Will you fight?”
The boy’s eyes flashed in the candle-light, down in the grim chamber were they stood.
“Torches—fight,” he whispered. “Are you going to tackle the Darleys?”
“No; the robbers.”
“T’other’s best; and they’re robbers too. But them’ll do. Want me to come and help fight them?”
“Yes; will you?”
“Will I?” said the boy, showing his teeth. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Master Mark.”
“Well, I want to follow you now. Take me to your father, and—not a word to a soul.”
Dummy slapped his mouth, and shut it close; then going to a niche in the rock, he pointed to a box of candles, and a much bigger one, which he opened and showed to be quite full of long sticks of hempen tow soaked in pitch, one of which he took out, and gave to Mark, and took one himself, lit it, and then led the way down, and in and out among the darkest recesses of the mine.
“Smoky,” said Dummy, giving his torch a wave, and sending the black curls of fume eddying upward, to hang along the stone ceiling. Then he uttered an angry cry.
“What’s the matter?”
“Hot pitch, Master Mark. Big drop splathered on to my hand.”
In due time the place where Dan Rugg was working and directing the men, chipping out the rich lead ore, was reached, and he came out of the murky place.
“Ah, Master Mark,” he said. “You, Dummy, put your foot on that smoky link. Want to smother us?”
“My fault, Dan,” cried Mark. “Come here.”
He communicated a part of the plan, and the miner’s stern face began to relax more and more, till he showed his yellow teeth in a pleasant grin, and put his sharp pick under his arm, so as to indulge in a good rub of his hands.
“The varmin!” he said. “The varmin! Time it were done, Master Mark. Oh yes, I’ll pick out some lads who owe ’em a grudge, same as I do. You want eight of us? Me and seven more?”
“You and Dummy, and six more.”
“Dummy! Tchah! He’s no good.”
Dummy silently dug his elbow into his master’s ribs, but it was unnecessary.
“I want you and Dummy, and six men,” said Mark decisively.
“Oh, very well, sir; you’re young master; but what you can see in that boy I don’t know. Nine on us,” he continued thoughtfully. “Twelve o’ them. ’Taren’t enough, master.”
Mark hesitated. He had not meant to speak of his allies, for fear of opposition, but concluded now that it would be better, and explained everything.
“No, Master Mark; won’t do, sir,” said Dan, shaking his head ominously. “No good can’t come o’ that. They’ll be running away, and leaving us in the lurch.”
“Nonsense. Eight men will be picked who, as you say, owe the ruffians a grudge, and they’ll fight well.”
“But they’d rather fight us, master, same as us would rather fight them.”
“Not this time, Dan. We must join hands with them, and beat the robbers. Another time we may fight them.”
There was a low savage snarl.
“What do you mean by that, Dummy?” cried Mark.
“You didn’t tell me that Darley’s boy was coming to fight alongside o’ you, Master Mark.”
“Then I tell you now, Dummy,” said Mark haughtily. “We’ve joined together to crush the robbers; so hold your tongue.”
“Ay, he’d better,” growled Dan. “Well, Master Mark, I don’t quite like it; but if you say it’s to be done, why, done it shall be.”
“And you’ll make the men you choose be secret?”
“Why, master? Of course Sir Edward knows?”
“Not a word; and he is not to know till we bring in the prisoners.”
“Whee-ew!” whistled the old miner; and then he chuckled. “Well,” he said, “you have growed up a young game-cock! All right, Master Mark. We’ll come; only you must bear all the blame if the master don’t like it. You order me to do this?”
“Yes, I order you,” said Mark firmly. “It is time it was done.”
“That’s so, Master Mark, and that’s enough. I begin to feel as if I should like a fight.”
“And you shall have it. I’ll be outside, by the horse-stone, with eight swords, eight pikes, and eight belts.”
“That’s good, master; but we must bring our picks as well. We can handle them better than other tools.”
“Very well. You leave your lads down at the bottom, and come up with Dummy to fetch the arms; and mind this: I want to show up well before the Darleys. You’ll pick fine trusty lads who can fight?”
“You leave that to me, Master Mark,” said the old miner. “I’m proud of our family as you are. They shan’t have eight fellows as can equal us, ’cepting me and that stoopid boy.”
“Don’t you mind what he says, Dummy,” cried Mark laughingly; “he doesn’t mean it. There, come along. I want you to help me pick out some good sharp swords and pikes. Mind, Dan, I shall be waiting for you as soon as the last light’s out.”
“I shall be there, Master Mark,” replied the old miner; and the two lads returned to daylight, along the passages sparkling with crystals and bits of ore.
Meanwhile, Ralph was as busy arranging with the retainers at Cliff Castle, and as soon as he had taken Nick Garth into his confidence, that gentleman lay down on the ground, and hid his face.
“Why, what does that mean?” cried the lad.
“Couldn’t help it, sir. ’Bliged to, or I should have shouted for joy. Get seven more? Have a dozen, sir, or twenty. Every man-jack’ll want to go.”
“No: seven,” said Ralph firmly. “There’ll be nine from the Black Tor, so we shall be eighteen.”
“What! nine o’ them coming to help, Master Ralph!” cried Nick, whose jaw dropped in his astonishment.
“Yes: they are as much at enmity with the rascals as we are.”
“But, Master Ralph—”
“Now, no arguing, Nick; do as I tell you. Get Ram Jennings, and six men who have been injured by the gang, and I’ll have swords and pikes ready at ten. Not a word to a soul.”
“Isn’t the chief coming?”
“No: I am the chief to-night, and my father will not know.”
“But what’ll he say to me?”
“Nothing. I take all the blame.”
“But he’ll be mad about our going with a lot o’ Black Torers.”
“I tell you I am answerable for everything.”
“Yes, but—”
“Look here, Nick: do you want to rout out Captain Purlrose and his gang?”
“Do I want to, Master Ralph? Do I want to get his head under a stone, and sarve it like I would a nut? Yes, I doos.”
“Then pick the men. Bind them to be silent, and meet me as soon as the lights are all out. Will you do this?”
“Won’t I?” said the man exultantly; “and won’t we?—Master Ralph, sir, I am proud on you.—Well, this is going to be a treat! But, say, Master Ralph, will them Edens fight ’longside of us without being nasty?”
“Yes, because it’s against a common enemy,” said the lad.
“Common? They just are, sir. Commonest muck o’ men. Fit for nothing but putting under ground. Why, how I should like to take my old mother with us, and let her loose at that there captain. I wouldn’t give much for his chance. Shall I tell her?”
“No!” cried Ralph. “Not a soul. Everything must be done in secret, and the rascals up at Ergles taken by surprise.”
“You trust me, Master Ralph,” said the man; “and when Master Captain Purlrose finds who’s come, he will be surprised. We’ll hang him for a scarecrow at once, of course?”
“No: bring him here a prisoner, and my father will settle that.”
“Very well, sir. We’ll take him, dead or alive oh; but if I had my way, I’d like to turn him over to my mother and all the women him and his have robbed. Why, do you know, sir, night afore last the beggars carried off a pickle-tub and two feather beds. And they call themselves men.”
Nick Garth spat on the ground in his disgust, closed one eye as he looked at his young master, gave his mouth a sounding slap, and went round at once to garden, stable, and barns, to quietly enlist the little force, making each man swear secrecy, so that at nightfall not another soul save the initiated had the slightest inkling of what was going on, either at Cliff Castle or the Black Tor.
The crescent moon sank like a thin curve of light in the western sky soon after nine o’clock that night. At ten the last light disappeared at both places connected with the adventure, when Mark Eden lowered himself from his window on to the top of the dining-hall bay, and from thence to the ground.
Soon after, there was a faint whispering and chinking, and three dark figures, carrying swords and pikes, descended the steep zigzag to the bottom of the great tongue of rock, where six men were lying down waiting; and a few minutes later, all well-armed, they were tramping in single file through the darkness toward Steeple Stone. Their young leader, armed only with his sword, and wearing a steel morion of rather antiquated date, which could only be kept in place by a pad formed of a carefully folded silk handkerchief, was at their head; and in obedience to his stern command, not a word was spoken as they made for the appointed tryst.
A similar scene had taken place in the dry moat of Cliff Castle; and at the head of his little party of eight, Ralph Darley was silently on his way to the Steeple Stone, a great rugged block of millstone-grit, which rose suddenly from a bare place just at the edge of the moor.
The night was admirable for the venture, for it was dark, but not too much so, there being just enough light to enable the men to avoid the stones and bushes that lay in their way, which was wide of any regular path or track.
Ralph’s heart throbbed high with excitement, and in imagination he saw the gang of ruffians beaten and wounded, secured by the ropes he had had the foresight to make Nick Garth and Ram Jennings bring, and dragged back at dawn to the Castle to receive the punishment that his father would measure out.
He was a little troubled about that, for he felt that it was possible some objection might be raised by Mark Eden; and he was also a little uneasy about the first encounter of the two little bands of men so hostile to one another. But his followers were amenable to discipline, and one and all so eager for the fray, that he soon forgot all about these matters in the far greater adventure to come, and marched steadily on, keeping a bright look out, till he was nearing the solitary rock.
“See any one, Nick?” he whispered to his head man.
“No, sir. All as still and lonesome as can be.”
“Then we are first,” whispered Ralph. “I am glad. We’ll march close up, and then crouch down round the stone till the others come.”
Nick grunted; and they tramped softly on over the grass and heath, with all looking grim and strange, the utter stillness of the night out there adding to the solemnity of the scene.
But they had not taken half-a-dozen paces toward the block, seen dimly against the starless sky, when there was a sharp chink, and a familiar voice cried:
“Who goes there?”
“‘Allies,’” said Ralph promptly.
“Halt!” cried the leader.
“Advance!” came back; and directly after, the two lads were face to face, comparing notes.
“Began to think you were Purlrose’s men,” whispered Mark.
“And I that you had not come.”
“Been here some time, and the lads are all lying down. Now then, what are our plans? I want to get to work.”
“March together in single file, about five yards apart, straight for the cave. Get within fifty yards, halt, and let two advance softly to reconnoitre.”
“Can’t do better,” said Mark softly. “But we must keep very quiet, in case any of them are out marauding.”
“Yes, of course. When we get up to the mouth of the cave, we must halt on one side, light our torches, and rush in. We must leave it to the men then.”
“Oh yes; they’ll do it. They’ve all got their blood up. We must succeed.”
“But what about the torches?”
“Got plenty for both, and two men have got mine lanterns alight under their gaberdines. Better pass round torches for your men now.”
Ralph agreed that this would be best, and Mark summoned Dummy with a faint bird-like chirrup, and made him bring the links.
Then at a word, Mark’s men sprang up, and after marking down the spot below the dimly-seen top of the mountain-limestone ridge, beneath which, half-way down, as they well knew, the cavern lay, the two parties marched on in silence side by side, pausing every few minutes, in response to a shrill chirp, while the leaders took a few paces ahead to make a keen observation and whisper a few words.
“All still,” said Ralph, after the last of these pauses, which took place where the slope had grown steep, and they had about a quarter of a mile to go upward to reach the entrance to the cavern.
“Are you sure we’re aiming right?” whispered Mark.
“Certain. The hole is below that sharp point you can see against the sky. I remember it so well. Saw it when the men had surrounded us, and the captain was making signs.”
“Keep on, then,” whispered Mark. “Let’s get one on each side of the mouth, light our torches, and rush in. We’ll go in side by side, and the men must follow as they can.”
The march upward in the darkness was resumed almost without a word, but no regular lines could be kept to now, on account of the blocks of stone projecting, rough bushes, and cracks and deep crevices, which became more frequent as they progressed. Then, too, here and there they came upon heaps of broken fragments which had fallen from above, split away by the frosts of winter.
Hearts beat high from excitement and exertion, for the slope grew more steep now, and an enemy would have been at great advantage above them, if bent on driving them back.
But all remained still: there was no warning of alarm uttered by sentry, no shrill whistle; and so utterly death-like was all around, that Ralph whispered to Mark, who was close beside him now:
“I believe they must be all out on some raid.”
“Seems like it,” whispered back Mark; and they paused to let their men get close up, for the entrance could now dimly be made out, some twenty yards higher.
“Better take your lantern,” whispered Mark. “Then give the word after you are up, on one side, and we the other. We must go in at once then, for the light will startle them if they’re there.”
The lantern, carefully shaded, was passed to Nick Garth, and once more they pressed on, the men spreading out a little on either side now, so as to get level with the entrance, which gradually grew more plain, in the shape of a narrow cleft, little more than wide enough to admit one at a time; and they saw now that stones had been roughly piled beneath it to form a rough platform in front.
Still no sound was heard, and the next minute the two little groups clustered in their places close by the platform; Ralph gave the word, the lanterns were bared, and thrown open, and three links at a time thrust in, to begin burning, though not so quickly as their owners wished, while men stood on either side with pikes levelled, ready to receive the enemy should a rush be made from inside.
It was a picturesque scene, as the light from the lanterns gleamed dimly upon eager faces, and lit up the bright steel weapons. Then, one after the other, the torches began to burn and send upward little clouds of pitchy smoke, the light growing brighter and brighter, and throwing up the grey stones and darkening the shadows, till all were armed with a blazing light in their left hands, and sword or pike in their right, while between the two parties the mouth of the cave lay dark and forbidding, but silent as the grave.
“Ready?” whispered Ralph.
“Ready!” came from Mark.
“Then forward!” cried the former, and, sword in hand, the two lads stepped from right and left on to the platform, their shadows sent first into the dark rift; while the Ruggs crowded after Mark, and Nick Garth and Ram Jennings shouldered them in their effort to keep their places close behind Ralph.
“Hang the link!” cried Mark suddenly. “Here, Darley, do as I do.”
He threw his flaming torch right forward into the cave as far as it would go, and it struck against the wall and dropped some dozen yards in, and lay burning and lighting up the rugged passage.
“I’ll keep mine till we get past yours,” said Ralph in a hoarse whisper; and the lads pressed in, side by side, to find that the link was burning at an abrupt corner, the passage turning sharply to the right.
Mark stopped and picked up his link, but before he could throw it again, Ralph stepped before him over the rugged floor and hurled his light, to see it fall right ahead, after also striking against the wall.
“Zigzags,” said Mark in a sharp whisper. “Here, mind what you’re doing with those pikes.”
“All right,” was growled, but the men who held the weapons did not withdraw them, two sharp points being thrust right forward, so as to protect the two leaders, the holders being Dan Rugg and Nick Garth. Both Mark and Ralph objected to this again, but it was no time for hesitation. At any moment they might be attacked, and they were all wondering that they had heard nothing of the enemy, all being singularly still, save a low murmuring sound as of falling water at a distance.
“They must be all out,” said Mark in a low voice. “Gone on some raid. Well, we shall catch them when they come back.”
Chirp!
“Who did that?” said Ralph quickly, at the sound of a steel weapon striking against the rock.
But no one answered; and as they advanced slowly, and Mark stooped to pick up his burning link once more where it lay against the corner of the natural passage, Ralph seized the opportunity to change his sword to his left hand, and swing his round the corner out of sight.
They heard it fall, and the glow struck against the wall to their left, lighting up the passage beyond the corner.
“Take care, Master Mark,” whispered Dan Rugg.
“Ay, and you too, Master Ralph,” whispered Nick Garth. “P’r’aps they’re lying wait for us.”
“No,” said Mark, aloud. “They’re away somewhere, and I hope they haven’t seen our lights.”
Whizz—thud!
There was an involuntary start from the attacking party, for at that moment the burning link Ralph had thrown came sharply back, struck against the wall where the glow had shone just before, and dropped, blazing and smoking, nearly at their feet.
“That settles it,” said Mark excitedly.
“Yes, and that explains the chink I heard. They’re waiting for us. Ready? We must charge.”
Ralph’s words were followed by the pressing forward of the men behind—those of each family being eager to prove their valour by being before their rivals; and the next minute half-a-dozen were round the corner, with the two lads at their head, to find that the passage had suddenly widened out into a roomy chamber, toward whose high roof the smoke from the torches slowly ascended, and contracted again at the end, about a dozen yards away.
“Yes, I remember,” whispered Ralph. “I had forgotten: it goes off in a passage round to the left again at that corner.”
The men crowded in after them, finding ample room now, and all looked about, puzzled, for the enemy who had hurled back the link, several of those present being ready to place a strange interpretation upon the mystery.
But the explanation was plain enough when they reached the end of the chamber, where the onward passage was but a crack some two feet wide, with a bristling palisade of pike-heads to bar their further progress. There was no hesitation. At the sight of something real to attack, Mark uttered a shout.
“Here they are, lads,” he cried. “Now for it! Pikes.”
The men, Edenites and Darleyites, closed in together, forgetting all their animosities, and their pike-heads gathered into a dense mass, clashing against those which bristled in the narrow opening, clinked against the stone sides, and rattled, as the holders thrust and stabbed away past their young leaders’ shoulders, for, to their great disgust, both Mark and Ralph found that they could do nothing with their swords.
And now the silence which had reigned was further broken by the excited cries of the men, given at every thrust they made into the opening, their attack eliciting yells of defiance, oaths, and threats of what would be done directly.
The fight went on for a few minutes, with apparently no effect on either side, the attacking party being unable to reach the defenders, while the latter seemed to be too much crippled for space to attack in turn, contenting themselves with presenting their bristling points against the advance.
“Halt!” cried Mark suddenly. “This is of no use.”
“No,” growled Nick Garth, as, in obedience to the order, the men drew back a couple of yards, to stand, though, with their pikes directed at the narrow opening.
“Come out, you rats, and fight fair,” roared Dan Rugg; and there was a derisive shout of laughter, which echoed through the chamber, followed by the hoarse voice of Captain Purlrose.
“Go home, bumpkins!” he shouted, “or we’ll spit you all together like larks.”
“Beast!” shouted back Mark; and stepping forward he hurled his link right in over the pike-heads, amongst their holders, eliciting a series of thrusts and furious yells, as he took one step back, and fell back the next. A savage roar rose from his men, answered by another from within.
“Hurt, Mark Eden?” cried Ralph excitedly, catching at his brother leader, and saving him from going down.
“No: feel stupid,” panted Mark, who looked confused and dizzy; “point struck this stupid steel cap;” and he tore it off, and threw it down, though it had in all probability saved his life; the step back he had taken, however, had lessened the force of the thrust. “Better now.—Here, stop them. They are doing no good.”
For enraged by what had taken place, the attacking party had rushed in again, to go on stabbing and thrusting away with their pikes, keeping up a series of rattlings and clashings, till Ralph made his voice heard, and they drew back, growling angrily, and the weird light shed by the torches showed that blood had begun to flow from hands and arms.
“We must do something different to this,” cried Ralph, as soon as the yells of derision which greeted their repulse were over.
“Yes, young idiot! Go home to bed,” shouted the captain hoarsely. Then he burst into a savage tirade of curses, for Dummy, in his rage at being right at the back, had thrown another blazing torch straight in over the bristling pike-heads, lighting up the interior, and showing the savage faces of the defenders close together. Ralph judged that the link had struck the captain.
“Stand fast, men,” he whispered. “We may make them charge out that way. Go on, Dummy, and half-a-dozen more of you throw in your links all together.”
The order was obeyed, after the torches had been waved into a fierce blaze, and they flew in, scattering drops of burning pitch, bringing forth an outburst of yells of rage and pain, and a quick movement showed that the marauders were about to rush out. But the voice of Captain Purlrose was heard thundering out the words:
“Stand fast! Only a few drops of pitch, and a singe or two. Here, two of you, throw them back.” An exchange of burning missiles now took place for a few minutes, which soon ended on the part of the defenders, who, roaring with rage and pain, kept on trampling out the torches now thrown.
“Stop!” cried Mark. “It’s of no good. The cowards will not come out. Here, Ralph Darley.”
There was a few moments’ whispering, resulting in orders being given to the men, two of the Edens, and two of the Darleys standing aside, ready for some action.
“Now for another charge,” whispered Mark. “Take as long a hold of your pikes as you can, and when I give the order, let your points be all together like one. Ready? Forward!”
As the little party advanced, with their pike-heads almost touching, while those of their enemies were advanced to defend the opening, the two men on either side darted close up, shielded by the wall, passed their arms over with a quick motion, and each grasped and held fast one or two pike-shafts, in spite of the efforts of their holders to get them free.
But there were enough left to defend the hole, and one by one, in spite of the desperate efforts made to hold them, the imprisoned weapons were at last dragged away, to reappear, stabbing furiously, till, breathless with their exertions, the men once more drew back, several of the Edens in their rage snatching their small mining-picks from their belts, one hurling his into the hole, a wild yell telling that it had done its work.
“Well,” said Mark despondently, “what can we do?”
“Wait and see if they will come out and attack us. We are wasting strength.”
“Yes. It’s no good. We ought to have brought a lot of blasting-powder, Dan, and blown them out.”
“Yes, Master Mark; but we didn’t know. My advice is that we go back now, and come again.”
“Why, you’re hurt,” said Ralph excitedly, as he saw the blood streaming down the man’s arm.
“Ah, so’s a lot of us, young master,” growled the man. “Look at your own lads.”
Ralph took and raised a torch, and saw that half his own party, including Nick Garth and Ram Jennings, were suffering from cuts and stabs in their arms.
“Oh, they’re nowt,” growled Nick. “They’ve got it worse inside. Now then, let’s go at ’em again, or we shall never do it.”
Another yell of defiance came from the passage, followed by mocking invitations to them to come on again.
“Yah! You aren’t men,” roared Ram Jennings. “Rats, that’s what you are—rats. Only good to go and fight wi’ women.”
“It’s of no good,” said Mark bitterly. “I feel done. I haven’t had a single cut or thrust at one of the brutes; neither have you. We can’t do it.”
“I don’t like to say so,” said Ralph, “but my father was a soldier, and he said a good officer never wasted his men.”
“Well, we’re wasting ours,” said Mark bitterly, “We must give up, and come again.”
“Stop,” whispered Ralph. “I know. Give orders to your men quietly, and I’ll do so to mine. Then we’ll throw the torches in at them with all our might, and give a shout, and retreat as if we were beaten.”
“And stop on each side of the mouth to catch them as they pursue us,” said Mark excitedly, catching at the idea. “That’s it.”
The next moment they were hurrying from man to man, who heard them sulkily, growling and panting in their rage. But they obeyed their leaders’ orders, getting their remaining links well ablaze, the holders forming in front, and the rest quietly and quickly filing out by the other end of the chamber.
“Now!” shouted Ralph suddenly. “In with them.”
There was a rush of light, and the fiery missiles flew in through the opening, falling amongst the defenders, and leaving the chamber in comparative darkness, amidst which was heard the quick tramping of feet, mingled with the yells of rage from the defenders.
The next minute, with Mark and Ralph coming last, all were outside the mouth of the cavern, grouped in two parties, with presented weapons, breathing the soft, cool night air, and waiting for the attack of their foes.
Sound after sound came from the opening, but not such as they longed with bated breath to hear. Once there was a loud order which came rolling out, and a little later a gleam of lights was seen, but no rush of footsteps, no sign of pursuit; and suddenly a voice broke the silence of the peaceful night air, as Nick Garth roared out:
“’Taren’t likely. Rats won’t show for hours after the dogs have hunted ’em in their holes.”
“Ah! might wait for a week,” growled Dan Rugg. “It’s all over for to-night.”
“They’re right, Eden,” whispered Ralph.
“Yes: they’re right,” said Mark, with a groan. “We’re beaten—beaten, like a pack of cowards. Let’s go home.”
“I did not see much cowardice,” said Ralph bitterly. “But it’s all over, and we must retreat. Give the word.”
“What! to retreat?” cried Mark passionately. “I’ll die first.”
“It is not fair to the men to keep them longer.”
“Well, you’re a soldier’s son, and know best, I suppose. Give the word yourself.”
Ralph hesitated, for his companion’s words seemed to be tinged by a sneer, but he knew that it was madness to stay, and hesitating no longer, he gave the word to retire.
“We’re not going back for your orders,” said one of Mark’s followers surlily.
“Yes, you are,” cried his young master fiercely. “Back home now. March!”
There was a low growling on both sides, but the orders were obeyed, and slowly and painfully the two parties, stiff with exertion, and smarting with wounds, filed over the steep stone-besprinkled slope.
As they walked down, the two lads drew closer together, and at last began to talk in a low voice about their failure.
“Head hurt much?” said Ralph.
“Yes, horribly; and I’ve left that old iron pot behind. Air’s cool to it, though.”
“Shall I bind it up?”
“No: don’t bleed. I say.”
“Yes.”
“How are we going to meet our fathers to-morrow morning? Nice state the poor lads are in.”
Ralph uttered a gasp at the thought of it. There was no leading prisoners back in triumph, with their hands bound behind them. They were beaten—cruelly beaten, and he was silent as his companion, as they tramped slowly on, at the head of their men, till the Steeple Stone was seen looming up ahead, where they would separate, little thinking that the worst was to come.
The lads halted to listen whether there was any sound of pursuit, and the men filed slowly by till they were fifty yards ahead, when all at once voices were heard in altercation, angry words were bandied from side to side; and spurred by the same feeling of dread, the two leaders dashed forward again.
Too late! The smouldering fires of years of hatred had been blown up by a few gusty words of bitter reproach. Nick Garth had in his pain and disappointment shouted out that if the party had been all Darleys the adventure would have succeeded.
Dan Rugg had yelled back that it was the Darleys who played coward and hung back; and the next moment, with a shout of rage, the two little parties were at one another, getting rid of their rage and disappointment upon those they looked upon as the real enemies of their race.
It was a savage fight, and before Mark and Ralph, who rushed desperately into the mêlée, not to lead their men, but to separate them, could succeed in beating down the menacing pikes, several more were wounded; and at last they drew off, with their burdens greatly increased by having on either side to carry a couple of wounded men.
“We must put it down to Purlrose,” said Mark bitterly, as he ran back for a moment to speak to Ralph. “But what do you say—oughtn’t we to have our duel now?”
“If you like,” said Ralph listlessly; “Perhaps we’d better, and then I may be half killed. My father may be a little merciful to me then.”
Mark leaned forward a little, so as to try and make out whether his ally was speaking in jest or earnest; and there was enough feeble light in the east to enable him to read pretty plainly that the lad was in deadly earnest.
“No,” he said sharply; “I don’t think we’ll have it out now. My head’s too queer, and my eyes keep going misty, so that I can’t see straight. You’d get the best of it. I don’t want to meet my father, but I’d rather do that than be half killed. The poke from that pike was quite enough to last me for a bit.”
He turned and trotted off after his men, while Ralph joined his, to hear them grumbling and muttering together, he being the burden of their complaint.
Nick Garth and Ram Jennings seemed to be the most bitter against him, the latter commencing boldly at once.
“Oh, Master Ralph,” he cried, “if your father had been here, we should ha’ paid them Edens for hanging back as they did.”
“They did not hang back,” cried Ralph angrily; “they fought very bravely.”
“What!” cried Nick. “Well, I do like that. But I don’t care. Dessay I shall be a dead ’un ’fore I gets to the Castle, and then we shall see what Sir Morton will say.”
“Well, you will not hear, Nick,” said Ralph quietly.
“No: I shan’t hear, Master Ralph, ’cause I shall be a dead ’un, I suppose. But I’m thinking about my poor old mother. She’ll break her heart when they carry me to her, stiff as a trout, for I’m the only son she has got.”
This was too much for the wounded men even. They forgot their sufferings in the comic aspect of the case, familiar as they all were with the open enmity existing between Mother Garth and her son, it being common talk that the last act of affection displayed toward him had been the throwing of a pot of boiling water at his head.
The laugh lightened the rest of the way, but they were a doleful-looking, ragged, and blood-stained set, who bore one of their number upon a litter formed of pike-staves up the zigzag to the men’s quarters at day-break; and Ralph felt as if he had hardly strength enough to climb back to his window and go to bed, after seeing his roughly-bandaged men safely in.
But he made the essay, and when half-way up dropped back again into the garden, just as a thrush began to pipe loudly its welcome to the coming day; and the blackbirds were uttering their chinking calls low down in the moist gloom amongst the bushes on the cliff slope.
“Can’t leave the poor fellows like that,” he muttered. “Oh dear, how stiff I am! Father said he always felt it his duty, when he was a soldier, to look well after his wounded men.”
He stood thinking for a few moments, and then began to tramp down the steep path to where the shadows were still dark, and a mist hung over the rippling stream. Then taking to the track beside it, he trudged on, with the warm glow in the east growing richer of tint, the birds breaking out into joyous song, and minute by minute the vale, with its wreaths of mist, growing so exquisitely beautiful that the black horrors of the past night began to seem more distant, and the cloud of shadow resting above his aching head less terrible and oppressive.
And as the sun approached its rising, so did the beauties around the lad increase; and he tramped on with a sensation of wonder coming upon him, that with all so glorious at early morn in this world of ours, it should be the work of the highest order of creatures upon it to mar and destroy, and contrive the horrors which disfigure it from time to time.
“And I’ve been one of the worst,” he said to himself bitterly. “No: it was to stop others from doing these things,” he cried quickly. “Oh, if we had not failed!”
He quickened his pace now, and, just as the sun rose high enough to light up the vale with its morning glow, he came in sight of the opening where Master Rayburn’s cottage stood.
“I shall have to wake him up,” said the lad, with a sigh; “and oh! what a tale to tell!”
But he did not have to waken the old man, for as he drew nearer he suddenly caught sight of his friend, standing with his back to him, hands clasped and hanging in front, head bent and bare, and the horizontal rays of the rising sun turning his silver locks to gold.
The lad gazed at him in surprise, but went on softly till he was quite close up, when Master Rayburn turned suddenly, smiled, and said:
“Ah! Ralph Darley, my lad, that’s how I say my prayers, but I’m a good Christian all the same. Why, what brings— here, speak, boy,” he cried excitedly—“torn, covered with dirt—and what’s this?—blood? Oh, Ralph, boy, don’t say that you and Mark Eden have been meeting again.”
“Yes,” said Ralph slowly; “we parted only a little while ago;” and he told the old man what had taken place, while the latter eagerly examined the speaker to seek for hurts.
“Then—then—you two lads—on the strength of what I said—attacked those ruffians in their den?”
“Yes, Master Rayburn,” said the lad bitterly; “and failed—miserably failed. Do, pray, come up and see our poor fellows. One of them is badly hurt, and the others have nearly all got wounds.”
“But you—you, boy. I don’t see the cause of all this blood.”
“No,” said Ralph wearily. “I’m not hurt. I suppose that came through helping the men.”
“Ah! and Mark Eden—is he hurt?”
“No: we two ought to have had the worst of it. He had a thrust on the head, but his steel cap saved him, and he walked home.”
“But Sir Morton? he did not know you were going?”
“No: we kept it to ourselves.”
“He knows now, of course?”
“Nothing at all. We’ve only just got back.”
“I’ll come at once,” said the old man; and hurrying into the cottage, he took some linen and other necessaries, put on his hat, and rejoined the lad, making him give a full account of the attack and failure as they walked sharply back to the Castle.
“You don’t say anything, Master Rayburn,” cried Ralph at last. “Do you think we were so very much to blame?”
“Blame, my boy?” cried the old man. “I always liked you two lads, and, wrong or right, I think you’ve done a grand thing.”
“What?”
“I never felt so proud of you both in my life.”
Ralph smiled.
“That’s very good of you, Master Rayburn,” he said, “and it’s a bit comforting; but I’ve got father to meet by-and-by.”
“And so have I, my boy,” cried the old man warmly, “to take the blame of it all. For it was my doing from beginning to end. I incited you lads to go and do this, and I shall tell your father it is only what he and Sir Edward Eden ought to have done months ago.”
“But we failed—failed,” groaned Ralph dismally.
“Failed! You have not done all you meant to do, but you have read those ruffians a severe lesson, and next time—”
“Ah! next time,” sighed Ralph.
“Come, Ralph! Be a man. Nothing great is ever done without failure first. Your father will be angry, and naturally. He’ll scold and blame, and all that; but I know what he is at heart, and he’ll think as I do, that he need not be ashamed of his son, even if he has failed.”
The quarters were reached soon after, and the sufferer who had been carried back received the first attention, the others all having their turn; and just as the last bandage had been applied, Sir Morton, who had been having a walk round, came upon the pikes, stained and blunted, leaning against a buttress of the wall. This brought him to the men’s quarters, and in utter astonishment he stood gazing at the scene.
“Ah! good morning,” said Master Rayburn, in answer to his wondering look from his son to the injured men and back. “They’ll be easier now. Only one hurt much, and he’ll be all right again after a few days’ rest.”
“But what does this mean?” said Sir Morton; and his son stood out, and in a frank, manly way, once more related the adventures of the night.
Sir Morton’s face grew sterner and harder as he heard everything to the finish; and he was just about to speak, when Master Rayburn broke in:
“My doing, from beginning to end. I told them they ought to do it.”
“And a nice business your interference has made, sir!” cried Sir Morton angrily. “You see now that it is impossible for two such adverse elements to get on together. The brutes! to turn upon those who had been fighting by their side!”
“Are you speaking about your men or Sir Edward Eden’s?” said the old man drily.
“Eden’s, of course,” cried Sir Morton angrily.
“Six of one and half-a-dozen of the other,” said the old man; “and all due to the evil teaching of their masters, my dear old friend. Come, Darley, it’s of no use to cry over spilt milk; the boys have set their fathers a splendid example, and driven in the thin end of the wedge. The sooner you and Eden send it home the better.”
“I must try again.”
“Of course. I don’t ask you to make friends. It would be absurd; but you must stir now, and I shall tell Eden the same, and that he cannot for very shame leave the work undone that his son has begun. Ralph, lad, you go to bed, and sleep all day. I am doctor enough to insist to your father that you are not to be disturbed. I must go up to the Black Tor at once, for I suppose I am badly wanted there.”
The old man hurried away with the remainder of his bandages, and Sir Morton signed to his son, who followed him to the room into which Captain Purlrose had been ushered.
“Now, Ralph,” began Sir Morton, but his son interrupted him:
“Guilty, father,” he cried dismally, “and I have failed.”
“There, do as Master Rayburn said,” cried Sir Morton, “and—well—I’ll talk to you another time—I’m—er—I’m not very angry, my boy, but—there, be off. It was very brave, and like a soldier’s son.”
“I wonder what Mark Eden’s father has said to him,” thought Ralph as he threw himself wearily upon his bed.