Master Rayburn was anxiously expected at the Black Tor, Mark’s first act having been to send Dummy Rugg down to his cottage to ask him to come up; and not finding him there, the boy had very bravely followed him to Cliff Castle, in the full belief that he would be there, and on learning that he was, he sent a message in, and then hurried away.
Matters went on in a very similar way at the Tor, even to Sir Edward accidentally finding that something was wrong, and going to the building at the entrance to the mine, where the wounded men were being attended. But he did not take matters in the same spirit as his inimical neighbour, but attacked his old friend furiously, vowed that he would never forgive him, and threatened his son with the severest punishment, though he did not say what.
Master Rayburn said nothing, but went on dressing the men’s wounds, till, regularly worked up into a perfect fury, Sir Edward turned upon him again. “This ends everything between us, Master Rayburn,” he cried. “I have treated you as a friend, made you welcome at my table, and allowed my son to make you a kind of companion; but now, have the goodness to recollect that we are strangers, and if the gang from out of the cavern yonder attack you, get out of the trouble in the best way you can, for you will have no help from me.”
“Very well,” said Master Rayburn quietly.
“And now, sir, leave my place at once.”
“Oh no!” said the old man quietly, as Mark looked on, scarlet with annoyance, but feeling that he must suffer for what had happened.
“Oh no!” cried Sir Edward, aghast. “Have the goodness to explain what you mean.”
“Certainly,” replied the old man. “I have not finished with this man, and I have another to attend later on.”
“Leave, sir, at once,” cried Sir Edward.
“No,” replied the old man quietly. “You are angry, and are saying that which in calmer moments you will regret. Those men require my assistance, and I must insist upon staying.”
Sir Edward made an angry gesture.
“Go on, then,” he cried; “finish what you have to do, and then leave at once.”
“Yes,” replied Master Rayburn calmly; “but it will be necessary for me to come day after day for quite a week. This man will need much attention.”
Sir Edward turned and walked angrily out of the place; and as if not a word had been said, the old man went on with his task until he had ended. Then telling the men to be of good heart, for their injuries were none of them serious, he went to the door with Mark, whose face was troubled and perplexed.
“There, you need not look like that, my lad,” he said. “Your father’s angry now, but he’ll calm down, and I don’t think he will say much to you. It is more likely that he will want to take revenge upon those ruffians. Cheer up, my boy: I’m not angry with you for what you’ve done. It was the fighting afterwards that was the unlucky part.”
The old man hurried away, and Mark stood watching him descend the slope.
“Cheer up, indeed!” he muttered; “who’s to cheer up at a time like this? I wish I hadn’t listened to that miserable scrub of a Darley. I always hated him, and I might have known that associating with him would lead me into trouble.—Well, what do you want?”
This was to Dummy Rugg, who, like his young master, had escaped without much damage.
“Only come to talk to you, Master Mark,” said the boy humbly.
“Then you can be off. I don’t want to talk.”
“I’ll talk, then, and you listen, Master Mark,” said the boy coolly; and Mark opened his eyes, and was about to order the lad off, but Dummy went on quickly. “I’ve been thinking it all over,” he said. “That gunpowder’s the thing. When we go next we’ll take a lot in bags. When we get there, and they’re hiding in that narrow bit, I’ll untie the bags and throw two or three in. Then we can throw three or four torches, and one of them’s sure to set the powder on fire, and start ’em; then we can all make a rush.”
“Oh, then you think that we shall go again?”
“Oh yes, we must go again, Master Mark. Why, if we didn’t go, the robbers would think we were afraid, and come at us. You’re not going to sit down and look as if we were beat?”
“Well, it would be too bad, Dummy,” said Mark, thoughtfully.
“Bad? I should think it would, Master Mark. I say, wasn’t it grand last night?”
“Grand?”
“Yes; when we were in the cave, with the lights shining, and the pikes sparkling. If they had only come out and fought fair, it would have been splendid.”
“Then you would like to go again, Dummy?”
“Of course, sir. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Mark thoughtfully.
“Yes, you must go again, and take ’em all prisoners. But I suppose you won’t go to-night?”
“Go to-night? No!”
“Well, there’s nothing going on in the mine to-day. Father’s too sore to head the men, and he’s going to lie down and rest till his arm’s better. What do you say to having a good long day below there, and finding which way the river runs—the one we heard?”
“Bah! Stuff! Rubbish! After being up fighting all the night! You must be mad.”
“No, I aren’t,” said Dummy. “I only want you to come. It’ll do you good. You don’t know how much better you’ll feel after a good walk and climb down there.”
“What’s the good, Dummy?”
“We want to find out where the water goes to that is always falling. I’m sure some of it comes out of our river, where the hole’s in the stream.”
“And what good will it do to know where the water goes?”
“I don’t know, but I want to. Can’t go to work after such a night as we had. There’s nobody down the mine to-day.”
Mark put his hand to the place where he had received the blow.
“Headache, Master Mark?”
“Yes. All jarred-like.”
“Then come down. I’ve often had a bad headache when I’ve gone down into the mine, and it’s been so quiet and still there that it has soon got better. Do come, Master Mark; it’ll be better than sitting thinking about being beaten last night.”
“Very well, Dummy,” said Mark at last: “I don’t feel as if I could go to bed and sleep, and I don’t want to be thinking.”
“And you’ll have too much to do down there to think.”
“Yes, I suppose so; and if I stay up, I shall be meeting my father and catching it. Oh, I only wish we had won the day.”
“Couldn’t; ’cause it was night,” said the boy thoughtfully.
“Well, be ready with the candles, and I’ll come in half-an-hour, as soon as I’ve seen how the men are.”
“Oh, they’re all right, and gone to sleep. They don’t mind. But you ought to have let us beat the Darleys, as we didn’t beat the robbers.”
“You go and get the candles,” said Mark sourly.
“Like to have torches too, master?” said the lad, with a cunning grin.
“You speak to me again like that, you ugly beggar, and I won’t go,” cried Mark wrathfully. “Think I want all that horrible set-out with the torches brought up again?”
“I’m off to get the candles ready, Master Mark,” said Dummy humbly; and he hurried down the steep steps to get to the mouth of the mine.
“Wish I’d kicked him,” muttered Mark, as soon as he was alone. “I do feel so raw and cross. I could fight that Ralph Darley and half-kill him now. Here, let’s go and see how miserable all the men are; it’ll do me good.”
He hesitated about going, though, for fear of meeting his father; but feeling that it was cowardly, he went to where the men lay now, found them asleep, and came out again to go into the dining-room and make a hasty breakfast; after which he went out, descended the steep steps out in the side of the rock upon which the castle was perched, glanced up at it, and thought how strong it was; and then came upon Dummy, waiting with his candle-box and flint and steel, close by the building where the blasting-powder was kept.
“Let’s take these too, Master Mark,” he said, pointing to the coils of rope which had been brought back from the cave; “we may want ’em.”
He set the example by putting one on like a baldric, Mark doing the same with the other.
“Now for a light,” he said, taking out his flint, steel, and tinder-box.
“Well, don’t get scattering sparks here,” said Mark angrily. “Suppose any of the powder is lying about, you’ll be blowing the place up.”
“Not I,” said the boy, smiling; “I’m always careful about that.”
He soon obtained a glow in the tinder, lit a match, and set a candle burning. Then taking each one of the small mining-picks, the two lads descended into the solitary place, Dummy bearing the light and beginning to run along cheerily, as if familiarity with the long wandering passages and gloomy chambers had made them pleasant and home-like. Mark followed him briskly enough, for the solemn silence of the place was familiar enough to him, and he looked upon it merely as a great burrow, which had no terrors whether the men were at work or no.
Dummy went steadily on, taking the shortest way to the chamber where he had shown his companion that it was no cul de sac, but the entrance to the grotto where nature had effected all the mining, and at last the great abyss where the sound of the falling water filled the air was reached. Here Dummy seated himself, with his legs swinging over the edge, and looked down.
“That’s where the river water comes in,” he said, “through a big crack. Now let’s see where it goes, because it must go somewhere.”
“Right into the middle of the earth, perhaps,” said Mark, gazing down into the awful gulf, and listening to the rushing sound.
“Nay,” said Dummy; “water don’t go down into the earth without coming out again somewhere. Dessay if we keep on we shall come out to daylight.”
“Eh?” cried Mark; “then we had better find it and stop it up, for as I said the other day, we don’t want any one to find a back way into our mine.”
“That’s what I thought, Master Mark,” said Dummy quietly. “Wouldn’t do for Purlrose and his men to find it, and come in some day, would it?”
“No; that wouldn’t do at all, Dummy.”
“No, sir. But how’s your head?”
“My head? Oh, I’d forgotten all about it.”
“I know’d you would,” said the lad, grinning. “Don’t feel so tired, neither?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll light another candle, and we’ll get on: but don’t you get slipping while we are going round here, because I don’t know how deep it is, and I mightn’t be able to get you out.”
“You take care of yourself, and lead on,” said Mark shortly. “I dare say I can go where you do.”
Dummy nodded, and after handing the second candle to his master, he went along sidewise, and then lowered himself over the edge of the gulf, and dropped out of sight.
“Only ’bout a fathom, Master Mark,” he shouted, “and plenty of room.”
Mark did not hesitate, but lowered himself in turn, and dropped upon his feet, to find they were upon a rugged shelf, about four feet wide, sloping downward right by the side of the gulf; and passing along this, they soon reached the other side of the great chasm, to stand nearly opposite to the end of the passage where they had entered, but about twenty feet lower; and here they again looked down into the awesome depths. But nothing was to be seen. The water fell from somewhere beneath where they had entered; and as they judged, plunged deep down into a wide chasm, and from thence ran out and under the great crack, which the boy found out as the way they had to go.
“Stream runs right under that, Master Mark. I went along some way, and every now an’ then I could hear it, deep down. I say, did you bring anything to eat?”
“Some bread that I couldn’t manage at breakfast.”
“So did I,” said the boy. “P’r’aps we may want it by-and-by.”
“We want better lights, Dummy,” said Mark, after they had progressed some distance.
The boy turned round with a merry look, and was about to suggest torches once more, but at a glance from Mark’s eyes, he altered his mind and said:
“Yes, those don’t give much.”
But pitiful as the light was, it was sufficient for them to see walls covered with fossils, stalactites hanging from the roofs of chambers, others joined to the stalagmites on the floor, and forming columns, curtains, and veils of petrifaction, draping the walls as they went through passage, hall, and vast caverns whose roofs were invisible. And all the time, sometimes plainly, sometimes as the faintest gurgling whisper, they heard the sound of flowing water beneath their feet.
“Well, this is grand!” said Mark; “but it’s of no use.”
“Aren’t no lead,” said the boy quietly; “but it’s fine to have such a place, and be able to say it’s ours. May be some use.”
“But I say, how are you going to find your way back?”
“Oh, I dunno,” said the boy carelessly. “I’ve often been lost in the other parts, and I always found my way out.”
“Yes, but how?”
“Oh, I dunno, quite, Master Mark,” said the boy earnestly, “but it’s somehow like this. I turn about a bit till I feel which is the right way, and then I go straight on, and it always is.”
“Mean that, Dummy?”
“Oh yes, Master Mark; that’s right enough. But come along.”
There was a certain excitement in penetrating the dark region, with its hills and descents, passages and chambers, deep cracks and chasms, down in which water was running, and strange ways, formed either by the settling or opening of the rock, or literally cut away by the rushing water; and every step was made interesting by the weird shapes around, formed by the dripping of water from the roof.
Earth there was none, the stalactites and stalagmitic formations were of the cleanest stone, pale drab, cream, or ruddy from the solution of iron; and at last, when they must have been walking, climbing, forcing their way through narrow cracks, or crawling like lizards, for hours, the boy stooped by a little pool of crystal water in the floor, and said:
“Don’t you think a bit o’ bread and cheese would be nice, Master Mark?”
“Yes; that’s what’s the matter with me,” cried the lad. “I was beginning to feel poorly. It’s because I did not have a proper breakfast.”
The next minute they had stuck their twice renewed candles in a crack in the rock wall, and were seated upon a dry stalagmite looking like the top of a gigantic mushroom, eating ravenously, and moistening their dry food with copious draughts from the crystal pool. There was water, too, below them, a low rushing gurgle announcing that they were still following the course of the subterranean stream running through a wide crevice in the floor.
“How much farther does it go, Dummy?”
The boy shook his head.
“May be for miles; but we’ll see now, won’t we?”
“Let’s finish our eating first, and then see how we feel,” said Mark. “If we don’t now, we will some other time. I say, if that water was not running, how quiet it would be!”
“Yes,” said Dummy, with his mouth full. “I don’t think anybody was ever here before.”
“I suppose not,” said Mark, looking round.
“Here, have some more of my cheese,” said the boy. “You haven’t got none.”
Mark nodded, and took the piece cut by the boy’s pocket-knife, for it improved the dry bread.
“It’s some of yours,” said Dummy, with a grin. “They give it me in the kitchen.”
Mark was looking round, and listening to the water.
“I say, Dummy, suppose there was to be a storm outside, and this place filled up, we should be drowned.”
“Never been no water along here, only drips,” said the boy, examining the floor. “No, there’s never been any floods here.”
“How do you know?”
“Been some mud or sand left,” said the boy, scraping in a narrow chink in the floor. “All hard stone.”
“I suppose you’re right; but we must be very deep down.”
“No. I have been thinking, just as you have to when we’re looking for fresh lead, we’ve been down a deal, and we’ve been up a deal, ’bout as much one as t’other. I should say we’re just a little lower down than when we started from that big water-hole, but not much.”
“Made my back ache a bit, Dummy,” said Mark, with a groan, as he leaned himself against a column which was pleasantly smoothed and curved.
“Yes, we’ve come a good way,” replied Dummy, “and you didn’t have no sleep last night.”
The boy munched his last crust, and then lay flat down on his breast, with his mouth over the pool, lowered his lips, and took a long deep drink, after the fashion of a horse. After this, he rolled himself clear away, and lay upon his back, staring at the two candles stuck in the crack a few feet above his head.
“Does rest your back and lynes, Master Mark, to lie like this for a bit. You just try it.”
There was no reply.
“D’you hear, Master Mark? You try it.”
Still no response, and he turned his head, to see that his companion’s chin was resting upon his chest.
“Sleep!” said Dummy, with a little laugh. “Can’t stand being up all night like I can. Being on night-shifts, sometimes, I s’pose. Well, let him sleep for a few minutes, and then I’ll wake him.”
Then all was blank.
All at once Dummy Rugg uttered a peculiar snort, and started up in a sitting position, with the thought still fresh in his brain that he must rouse up Mark from his nap.
But all was dark, and there was the gurgling rush of the water below. “Why, I’ve been asleep,” muttered the lad excitedly. “Think o’ me doing that!”
He rose quickly, and felt for the crack in which he had stuck the candles, narrowly escaping a plunge into the little pool from which he had drunk.
He found the spot where the candles had been, both of them; he could feel it by the size, and knew it by the shape, for it grew smaller at each extremity, so that he had been able to wedge the ends of the candles tight.
Yes: there was no doubt about it. Both candles, as if to be in fashion with the stony drippings of the cavern, had run down a little, to form tiny stalagmites of grease.
“Burnt right out,” muttered Dummy, still more excitedly. “Why, I may ha’ been asleep for hours.”
Thrusting his hand into his breast, there was a faint rattle as he drew out tinder-box and match, and then felt for a candle in the box he had carried slung by a strap from the shoulder, and laid it ready.
The next minute he was nicking a piece of flint against the steel, striking sparks down into the box, and at the second sharp click Mark started awake.
“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.”
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!”