Ralph Darley's first step was to get his right hand beside his left, and
his feet once more upon the ledge, but the ivy gave way a little more at
this movement, and he paused. But not for long. Another danger was at
hand.
Moved by the boldness of the lad's efforts to escape, and in dread lest
he might be successful, the leader of the four men, after a short
consultation with the others, who tried to dissuade him, began to wade
cautiously forward till the water grew too deep for him, and then
creeping sidewise, he climbed on to the smooth wall, and began to
imitate the course taken by Ralph; but before he had gone many yards,
one of his companions shouted:
"You'll go down, and be swep' away, and sucked in."
This checked him and made him hesitate, but rousing his courage again,
he once more began to edge along the shelf below the surface, and this
spurred the fugitive on to make another effort.
This time he caught at the ivy, which gave way a little more, but still
held, and by moving cautiously, Ralph managed to get his feet upon the
ledge. The next minute he had found another prominence below water,
raised his foot to it, and caught at a rough bit of the stone above the
ivy, stood firm, drew himself a little higher, and by a quick scramble,
got a foot now on the ivy stem and his hands in the crack above, just as
the growth yielded to his foot, dropped into the stream, and was swept
away, leaving the lad hanging by his cramped fingers.
But though the ivy was gone, the crevice in which it had grown remained,
and in another few seconds Ralph's toes were in it, and the weight off
his hands.
He rested, and looked down-stream, to see that the man was steadily
approaching, but the lad felt safe now. The ivy was gone, and the enemy
could not possibly get farther along the ledge than the spot from whence
he had slipped.
Cheered by this, Ralph began to climb again, finding the task easier,
and the next minute he had hold of the tough stem of the hawthorn; and
heedless of the thorns, dragged himself up into it, stood upright,
reached another good, strong hand-hold, and then stepped right up on to
a broad shelf of grass-grown limestone. The men uttered a fierce shout,
and their leader, seeing now that his task was hopeless, began to retire
and join his companions.
Ralph watched him for a few moments, and then began to climb again,
finding this part of the slope easy, for great pieces of stone were
piled up, and made fast by the bushes which grew amongst them, hiding
the fugitive from the sight of those below, and raising his hopes as he
found how easily he could get up. Twice over he heard shouts and their
echoes from the opposite side, but he was too busy to heed them, and
soon felt confident enough to sit down in a niche, half-way up the
cliff, and rest for a few minutes.
"Horribly wet," he said to himself; "fishing-rod broken and lost,
fish-can gone, and--ah! I did not expect that," for he found that
shoes, hose, and creel were safe. "Glad I shall take the fish home
after all."
He listened: all was still. Then he peered down, but he could see
nothing save the bushes and trees on the other side; even the river was
invisible from where he sat; and getting his breath now after his
exertions, he turned, and began to look upward.
Ralph was born somewhere about three miles from where he sat, but he had
inadvertently wandered into a part that was perfectly unfamiliar to him,
the feud between the two families having resulted in its being
considered dangerous for either side to intrude within the portion of
the rugged mountainous land belonging to the other.
Still, the lad had some notion of the bearings of the cliff hills from
seeing them at a distance, and he rapidly came to a conclusion as to
which would be the best course for him to take to avoid the occupants of
the Black Tor; but when any one is flurried he is liable to make
mistakes, and much more likely when deep in a tangle of pathless wood,
and listening for the steps of those who are seeking to make him a
prisoner.
According to Ralph's calculations, the narrow gap which led eastward to
the edge of the huge hollow in which the narrow, roughly conical mass of
limestone rose crowned with the Eden Castle, lay away to his left; and
as he had in climbing kept on bearing to the right, he was perfectly
certain that he had passed right over the men in the river. He felt,
therefore, that he had nothing to do but keep steadily on in the same
course, always mounting higher at every opportunity of doing so unseen,
until close to the top, when he could keep along the edge unseen till
well on his way homeward, and then take to the open downs above.
The silence below was encouraging, and in spite of being compelled often
to creep beneath the bushes, and here and there descend to avoid some
perpendicular piece of rock, he got on, so that he grew more and more
satisfied that he had escaped, and had nothing to do but persevere, and
be well out of what had promised to be a very awkward predicament. His
clothes clung to his back, and his legs were terribly scratched, while
one of his feet was bleeding; but that was a trifle which he hardly
regarded.
Just before him was a steeper bit than usual, and he hesitated about
trying to climb it; but the way up or down seemed to promise no better,
so taking advantage of the dense cover afforded by the trees, he
steadily attacked the awkward precipice, the dwarf trees helped him with
their gnarled trunks, and he mastered the ascent, found himself higher
up than he had expected, crawled a step or two farther, and arrived the
next minute at the brink of a deep chasm, while to the left, not a
couple of hundred yards away, rose the castle-crowned Black Tor.
He shrank back the next instant, and a feeling of confusion came over
him. He could hardly understand how it was, but directly after it was
forced upon his understanding that he had been quite wrong in his
bearings; that when he began to climb, the Black Tor lay to his right
instead of his left, and that, instead of going into safety, he had been
making straight for the most dangerous place.
To go on was impossible, for the cliff beneath him was overhanging; to
go to the left was equally vain; and to descend or return was in all
probability to walk right into the arms of his pursuers.
Once more he cautiously advanced his head between the bushes to look
out, but the prospect was not encouraging. There, fifty or sixty feet
away, was the fellow cliff to that upon which he lay, split apart by
some terrible convulsion of nature; and once there he could have made
for home, but there was no way of passing the opening save by descending
right to the river's bank, and he felt pretty certain that he could not
do this without being seen.
Still it was the only course, and his choice was open to him--to lie in
hiding till the darkness came, many hours later, or boldly descend.
To lie there in the shadow with his wet clothes clinging to him was not
a pleasant prospect, but it seemed the only one feasible under the
circumstances; and he concluded that this was what he would do, wishing
the while that he dared go and lie right out in the sunshine.
He had hardly thought this, when a hot thrill ran through him, for from
somewhere below there came the sharp bark of a dog, and a voice rose
cheering the animal on, and then shouted: "Close in, all of you: he's up
here somewhere. Dog's got his scent."
Then voices answered with hails from different parts, and Ralph's next
movement was to crawl forward again to the very edge of the precipice,
look over, and seek for a place where he might perhaps descend.
But again he saw that it was utterly hopeless, and nerved now by his
despair, he began to descend through the fringe of scrub oak and beech,
close to the chasm, so as to get down to the river, where he meant to
plunge in, and cross by wading or swimming to the other side.
But there is no hiding from the scent of a dog. Ralph had not gone down
half-a-dozen yards before the dog gave tongue again, and kept on
barking, coming nearer and nearer, and more rapidly as the scent grew
hotter: while before another dozen yards were passed the lad had to
seize the first block of stone he could lift, and turn at bay, for the
dog had sighted him and rushed forward, as if to leap at his throat.
There is many a dog, though--perhaps taught by experience--that will
face a staff, but shrink in the most timid manner from a stone; and it
was so here. At the first threatening movement made by Ralph, the dog
stopped short, barking furiously, and the lad glanced downward once
more. But to proceed meant to turn his back upon his four-footed enemy,
which would have seized him directly.
There was nothing then to be done but face it, and he prepared to hurl
his missile, but, to the lad's despair, the second dog, which had been
silent, now rushed up, and he had to keep them both off as he stood at
bay, the new-comer being more viciously aggressive than the first.
"I can't help it: I must make a dash for freedom," thought Ralph; and,
raising his stone higher, he hurled it at the bigger dog, which avoided
it by bounding aside. Then turning, he dashed downward, right into the
arms of a man.
There was a sharp struggle, and the latter was getting worsted, being
lower down, and having to bear the shock of Ralph's weight in the bound,
but the next moment unexpectedly the lad felt himself seized from
behind, two more men came panting up, and, utterly mastered, he found
himself upon his back, with one enemy seated upon his chest, another
holding his arms outspread, and the others his legs, thoroughly
spread-eagled upon the sloping rock.
"Got you now," said the leader of the little party. "You, Tom, we can
manage him.--Get out, will you, dogs!--Here, take them with you. Run to
the mine hut, and get some rope to tie him. Be as smart as you can.
The master'll give us something decent for a job like this."
The man addressed called the dogs to him, and was unwillingly obeyed,
but a few stones thrown by the rest overcame the animals' objections,
and they trotted off, leaving the prisoner relapsed into a sulky
silence; his captors chatted pleasantly together about his fate,
banteringly telling him that for certain he would be hung over the
castle wall.
Ralph paid no heed to what was said, and after a time the men grew tired
of their banter, and began to wonder among themselves whether their
companion would say anything to those whom he might meet.
"He'll like enough be doing it," said the leader. "I tilled him to
fetch a rope, and if he does anything else, he'll hear of it from me.
What we wants is to take our prisoner up proper to the master, and get
our reward."
Then they began muttering in a low voice among themselves, taking care
that their prisoner should not hear, as he lay upon his back, staring
straight up at the blue sky, and thinking of how soon it had come upon
him to be suffering Mark Eden's reverse.
At last a hail came from below, and the man panted breathlessly up to
them, throwing down a coil of thin rope, with which, after turning him
over upon his face, the men, in spite of his struggles, tightly and
cruelly tied their prisoner's arms behind him, and then his ankles and
knees. They were about to lift him up, when there was a sharp barking
heard again.
"Here, you, Tom," cried the leader, who had been most savage in dragging
the knots as tightly as possible, "I told you to take those dogs back."
"Well, so I did. I didn't bring 'em."
"They've come all the same," cried the other. "Well, it don't matter
now. Perhaps Buzz wants a taste of these here naked legs."
The dog barked close at hand now.
"Here, you, jump up, before he has you," cried the leader brutally; and
then he stared wonderingly, for there was a sharp rustling amongst the
bushes, and the dog sprang out to them, closely followed by Mark Eden,
who cried in wonder:
"Why, hallo: then this is what Buzz meant! Whom have you got there?"
The men drew back, and Mark stooped, as the dog barked violently, turned
the prisoner over, and once more the two enemies were gazing curiously
in each other's eyes.
Ralph did not flinch, but a dull feeling of despair ran through him as
he saw Mark Eden's face light up, his eyes flashing, and a smile of
triumph playing about his lips.
Mark did not speak for a time. Then he turned his back upon the
prisoner.
"Do you know who this is?" he said to the men.
"Oh yes, Master Mark, we know him. Don't you? It's young Darley, from
below there. We was having a bit of a ramble 'fore going down in the
mine, and we'd got the dogs, to see if there was any chance of a rabbit
pie for supper; but they didn't find one; they found his nabbs here
instead. We had to hold the dogs' muzzles to keep 'em quiet till he'd
got by."
"What was he doing?"
"Wading, and ketching our trout. We let him go right up to the deep
water, down below where the narrows are, and we thought we'd trapped
him; but somehow he managed to scramble up the side and get up here, so
we set the dogs on, and they run him down. Look here, Master Mark; he'd
got all these trout. Fine 'uns too."
The man opened Ralph's creel, and held it out for Mark to see, the lad
nodding at the sight.
"Know'd where the good uns was."
"And what were you going to do with him?" said Mark quietly.
"We had to ketch him first," said the man, with a savagely stupid grin.
"And he give us a lot o' trouble, and we thought best thing to do was to
tie a stone to his neck and pitch him in one of the holes. But Tom,
here, said the master wouldn't like it, and seeing he was a Darley,
might like to make a sample of him, or keep him down in the mine to
work. So we tied him tight, and was going to swing him between us, and
carry him up to the gateway for the master to see. Then you come."
Mark made no sign of either satisfaction or anger, but stood thinking
for a minute or so, before turning again to where Ralph lay gazing
straight up to the sky, waiting for whatever fate might be his, and
setting his teeth hard in the firm determination to die sooner than ask
for mercy from the cruel young savage who stood before him with what
seemed to be a malicious grin upon his face.
And as he lay, Ralph thought of his school life, and all that had passed
there, and how strange it was that in the wild part of Midland England
there, amongst the mountains of the Peak, people could still be so
savage as to be able to follow their own wills to as great an extent as
did the barons and feudal chiefs of a couple of hundred years before.
Such thoughts as these had never come to him till after he had left home
for school, to find his level. Earlier in his boyhood his father had
appeared to him to be chief or king of the district, with a neighbour
who was a rival chief or king. He knew that King James ruled the land;
but that was England, away from the Peak. There, Sir Morton Darley,
knight, was head of all, and the laws of England did not seem to apply
anywhere there. Then he had gradually grown more enlightened, and never
more so than at the present moment, as he lay bound on the mossy stones,
feeling that unless his father came with a strong enough force to rescue
him, his fate might even be death. And the result? Would the law
punish the Edens for the deed? He felt that they would go free. They
were to a pretty good extent outlaws, and the deed would never be known
beyond their district. The moors and mountains shut them in. But Sir
Morton, Ralph felt, would never sit down quietly. He would for certain
attack and try to punish the Edens, and the feud would grow more deadly
than ever.
Thoughts like these ran through his brain as he lay there, till the
silence was broken by Mark Eden, whose face plainly told of the supreme
pleasure he felt in seeing his young enemy humbled thus before him.
"Well," he said at last, "are you not going to beg to be set at
liberty?"
Ralph looked at him defiantly.
"No," he said.
"Want to be taken up to the Tor, and hung from the tower as a scarecrow
to keep away all the other thieves?"
"What is it to you?" replied Ralph bitterly.
"You came and took our trout," said Mark, with a sneer; and he raised
his foot as if tempted to plant it upon the prisoner's chest.
"Yes, I came and caught some trout: but I looked upon the river as free
to me, as you thought our cliff was free to you."
"Hah!" cried Mark triumphantly; "I knew you would begin to beg for your
life."
"I have not begged," said Ralph coldly. "You spoke to me and I
answered."
"Ropes hurt?" said Mark, after a pause, during which he could find
nothing else to say.
Ralph smiled.
"Look for yourself," he said. "They don't quite cut to the bone."
"Our mine lads are strong," said Mark proudly. "Strong enough to beat
your wretched set of servants if ever they dare come up here."
"So brave and strong that you are glad to hire a gang of ruffianly
soldiers to help you," said Ralph scornfully.
"What? Those fellows in rags and rust? Pooh! We would not have them."
Ralph opened his eyes a little wider.
"The Edens want no paid help of that kind. We're strong enough to come
and take your place whenever we like; but as you won't be there, it will
not matter to you."
"No," said Ralph, who was sick with pain, and faint from the throbbing
caused by his bonds.
"But it would be a pity for my father to have you hung as a scarecrow,"
said Mark mockingly. "I don't like to see such things about. What do
you say to going down to work always in our lead-mine?"
"Nothing," said Ralph coldly.
"Better to live in the dark there, on bread and water, than to be
killed."
Ralph made no reply, but gazed fixedly in the speaker's eyes.
"Better beg for your life, boy," said Mark, placing his foot now on the
prisoner's chest.
"What! of you?" cried Ralph.
"Yes: I might make you my lackey, to wait upon me. That is what the
Darleys should do for the Edens."
"You coward!" said Ralph, with his pale face flushing now.
"What!" cried Mark. "Oh yes, call names like a girl. Come: beg for
your life."
Ralph's answer was a fierce and scornful look, which told of what he
would do if his hands were free. Then for a few moments he struggled,
and Mark laughed.
"No good," he said; "our men can tie knots fast enough to hold a
Darley."
The men, who stood at a little distance, laughed together in their
satisfaction as they eagerly waited to see what was to come. Mark did
not keep them long in suspense, for his hand went to the hilt of his
sword, which he half drew.
"Now," he said, "beg for your life, Darley."
"Coward!" cried Ralph, in a hoarse whisper.
"Very well," said Mark. "I gave you the chance. You were caught by our
men stealing on our land, and you ought to have begged. The Darleys
always were beggars and thieves; but you will not. I gave you the
opportunity."
He thrust the sword back in its sheath, and let his right hand fall to
his side, where a strong knife-like dagger hung by a short chain from
his belt, and whipped it out of its case.
"Does for a hunting-knife," he said, with a curious laugh. "My father
has killed many a stag with it. Now, are you going to beg for your
life?"
There was no reply, and the men took a step or two forward.
"Go back!" cried Mark fiercely; and the men obeyed.
Mark bent over the prisoner, with the mocking laugh intensifying.
"Too much of a coward to beg for your life," he said: "well, I'm too
much of a coward to make you see it taken. There!"
With a quick movement, he turned Ralph over upon his face, thrust the
point of the dagger beneath the line where the cut would tell best, and
the prisoner's wrists were free; another quick cut divided the rope
which drew his elbows together, and then the knees and ankles followed,
the strained hemp easily parting at the touch of the keen blade, and
Ralph Darley was free.
"Why, Master Mark," cried the chief man of the party in astonishment,
"what you doing of?"
"Can't you see, idiot?" cried Mark, with a fierce snap.
"But what's the good of our ketching and tying on him?" cried the man
addressed as Tom, in an ill-used tone.
"Say another word, you brute, and I'll have you tied as you tied him,"
cried Mark fiercely.
"Well, I dunno what Sir Eddard'll say when he knows."
"What he says he'll say to me," cried Mark. "You fellows ought to be in
the mine by now. Go back to your work."
The youth stood pointing down the steep slope, and an angry murmur of
opposition arose; but the men began to move off, only to be called back
just as Ralph rose painfully to his feet.
"Come here," cried Mark. "Pick up those pieces of rope."
"Who's going to take them back to the mine?" said the leader, in an
ill-used tone. "What's Dan Rugg going to say? Noo rope too."
"Tell him I cut it," said Mark imperiously. "You take it back."
The man picked up the pieces, and Tom quietly took up the creel from
where it lay, half hidden by a tuft of fern fronds, to begin moving off
with the trout. But Mark let him get a few steps away before following
with a rush and a kick which sent the man on his face. Then, as he
struggled up, angry and threatening, the lad snatched the creel from his
hands.
"The Edens are not thieves," he said fiercely--"only when they want a
few young ravens," he added, turning with a mocking laugh to Ralph; and
once more the two lads stood gazing in each other's eyes for a few
moments, the rustling made by the departing men and the murmur of their
voices rising from below.
Then, imitating Ralph's action of the last time they met, he pointed
down to the river, and said, with a mocking laugh:
"It's my turn now. The Darleys are not the only ones who know how to
treat a fallen enemy. Your creel, sir; and you are welcome to our
trout."
Ralph took the basket without a word, and without taking his eyes from
Mark's, while it seemed as if each lad was fighting hard not to be the
first to let his glance sink before the other's.
Then Ralph raised the lid of the creel, and began to take out the fish,
but hesitated, and laid them back. To have thrown them on the ground
seemed to him contemptible and mean.
"Now go," said Mark. "You and I are straight, sir. Next time we meet I
hope you will wear your sword."
Ralph hesitated, and remained standing in the same place; his eyes
looking as if he wanted to speak, but no words would come; and at last
he turned and took a step to go, but his numbed feet and ankles gave way
beneath him, and he tottered, and would have fallen, had not Mark
involuntarily sprung forward and caught him in his arms.
Ralph laughed painfully.
"Let me sit down on the enemy's ground for a few minutes," he said.
"Your men have left me no use in my limbs."
Mark gently let him down; and, faint with pain, the cold sweat breaking
out in great drops all over his brow, Ralph said feebly, smiling the
while:
"Not straight yet, Master Eden. I am in your debt now."
Then a deathly feeling of sickness came over him; trees, rocks, and
sunny sky were dim, and glided before his eyes till all was darkness,
for how long he could not tell.
When he opened his eyes again the sickly feeling still troubled him, but
he could not understand why. It was like awakening from some troubled
dream, and full consciousness came back slowly. Then, by degrees, he
grasped the fact that his head was resting on a tuft of heath, and
bracken fronds shaded him from the sun. His wrists throbbed with
sharp-shooting pains, which ran right up beyond his elbows. There were
pains, too, about his knees and ankles, and there was something else
which he could not make out, till he looked towards his feet, to see
that some one was seated a little below him on the sharp slope, with
back half-turned to him, and his bare legs across his lap, chafing the
ankles gently, first one and then the other, over and over again.
Ralph was quite conscious now, but he did not speak. He lay back there,
making no movement, no sign; but a curiously dark look came into his
eyes, and his lips quivered a little, grew firm again, and were softened
by a smile, while a strange glowing sensation set in about his heart.
Five minutes must have elapsed before Mark Eden turned his head, started
as he saw that Ralph's eyes were watching him, and his quiet intent gaze
gave place to a frown; his face became scarlet, and he hastily placed
his patient's legs upon the ground.
"How long have you been watching me?" he said hotly.
"Only a minute or so. Did I faint?"
"I suppose so," said Mark roughly. "Just like a great girl."
"Yes: very weak of me," said Ralph quietly.
"Yes, very," said Mark. "The brutes tied you too tightly. Try if you
can walk now. Get down by the river, and bathe them a bit."
He stood up and thrust his hands behind him, looking at his young enemy
scornfully; but the scarlet flush was in his face still, and would make
him look as if he were ashamed of what he had been caught doing.
Ralph sat up, and struggled painfully to his feet, turning hot and faint
again; but he made a brave effort to be firm, and took a step or two and
then stopped, Mark making no effort to assist him. Then stifling a cry
of pain, he took another step or two and tottered, when Mark caught his
arm.
"You're shamming," he cried angrily.
Ralph's brow wrinkled, and he looked down at his bare legs and feet,
raising one a little, painfully, to draw attention to the terribly
swollen state of his ankles and knees.
"Shamming!" he said quietly. "Am I? Well, they are not."
Ralph held out first one leg, and then the other, before seating himself
again, drawing his hose from his belt, and trying to draw them on; but
at the end of a minute the pain from his swollen wrists forced him to
give up the task, and he slowly replaced the hose in his belt.
Twice over, unseen by Ralph, his companion made a gesture as if to
advance and help him, but he mastered the inclination; and after a
while, Ralph sat perfectly still, waiting for the giddy feeling from
which he suffered to go off. And at last, feeling a little better, he
rose to his feet, bowed distantly, and began to descend the steep slope;
but in a few minutes he was clinging to a tree, helpless once more, and
he started, as Mark suddenly said, roughly:
"Here; you don't know our cliff: let me show you--"
Ralph was under the impression that he had left Mark Eden quite behind,
and his surprise was the greater when he found that his enemy was
offering him his arm, and ended by helping him down the remainder of the
way to the river, where the injured lad gladly seated himself at the
edge upon a stone, which enabled him to lave both feet at once in the
clear cool current, to the great comfort and relief of his swollen
ankles.
After a time he was able to use his feet, resume his hose and shoes, and
rise to start back; but it was awkward to part without some word of
thanks, and these were very difficult to say to one who stood by all the
time, watching every action, with a mocking smile upon his lips.
But the words had to be said, and making an effort Ralph turned to
speak. But before a sound had left his lips, Mark burst out with:
"Going now? Very well. Wait till we meet again. That way, sir. I
dare say you know that you can cross the river there?"
Ralph bowed coldly, and took a few steps toward the shallows, before
stopping short.
"I must go and thank him for what he has done," he said to himself; and
he turned to walk back, but Mark was not visible.
"Master Mark Eden," he cried; but there was no reply, and he cried
again, shouting as loud as he could, but there was still no response.
And, sick at heart with pain and vexation, Ralph once more stumbled
awkwardly along by the river, amongst stone, bramble, and fern, trying
to make out where the deep chasm was down into which he had looked, but
it was completely hidden by the trees; and, reaching the shallows, he
slowly crossed to go homeward on the more open side, which was a far
less difficult task, though it necessitated crossing the river again.
But as the lad disappeared among the trees, Mark Eden rose from where he
had been hidden behind a pile of fallen blocks, to make his way into the
chasm, and then upward to the castle on the Black Tor, frowning very
fiercely, and feeling a good deal dissatisfied with himself, though
brightening up a little as he began thinking of what was to happen the
next time he and Ralph Darley met.
"One couldn't do anything," he said roughly, "till that old business had
been put straight."