Fate seemed to be determined that the young people of the rival families
should become intimate, in spite of all the stringent rules laid down by
the heads; for Ralph was out one day, making a round, when it occurred
to him that he would call upon Master Rayburn, to let him see how well
the wound was healing up, and to say a few words of thanks to the old
man for his kindness and attention.
He found the object of his visit seated in a kind of grotto, shaded by a
great sycamore, with his doublet off, hat on the floor, and beautifully
white sleeves rolled up, busily at work, tying up some peculiar little
combinations of wool, hair, and feathers, to the back of a hook; and as
the lad approached, he held up the curious object by the piece of
horsehair to which it was tied.
"Well, patient," he said, "what do you think of that?"
"Nothing at all," cried the lad. "No fish would ever take that. What
do you call it?"
"A bumble-bee, and the fish will take it, Mr Cleversides; but not if
they see a big lubberly boy staring at them with his arm in a sling, or
an old grey-headed man, either, Ralph. There, don't frown. It's very
nice to be a big lubberly boy; much better than being a worn-out old
man, with not much longer to live. Ah, you laugh at my bumble-bee, and
it certainly is not like one, but the best I can do, and I find it a
great bait for a chevin, if used with guile. Take these two, Ralph,
boy, and early some sunny morning go down behind the trees, where they
overhang the stream, and don't show so much as your nose, let alone your
shadow, for it would send them flying. Then gently throw your fly."
[Note: a chevin is a chub.]
"How can you," said Ralph quickly, "with the boughs overhanging the
water?"
"Good, lad! what I expected you to say; but there is where the guile
comes in. I don't want you to throw your fly into the water, but to let
it drop on the leaves just above it, a few inches or a foot, and then
shake the line tenderly, till the bee softly rolls off, and drops
naturally from a leaf, hardly making a splash. Then you'll find that
there will be a dimple on the water, the smacking of two lips, and the
chevin will have taken the bait. Then it is your fault if it is not
laid in your creel."
"Thank you, Master Rayburn; I'll try. I haven't had a fish since I was
wounded."
"No: it would have been bad work if you had gone whipping about, and
irritating the two little holes in your arm. Well, how is it?"
"Oh, quite well now," said the lad, as he carefully hooked the bees in
his cap, and twisted the hair to which they were attached under the
band; "and I've come to say how thankful I am for all you have done for
me, and--"
"That's enough, my dear boy," cried the old man warmly; "look the rest.
And now about those wild men of the mountains; have you heard how they
are going on?"
"A little; not much."
"Ah, you don't know, or you would not talk about a little. Why, Ralph,
boy, the country round is full of complaints of their doings. About a
dozen great idle scoundrels are living up at Ergles in that cave, laying
the people for miles round under contribution; picking the fat of the
land, and committing outrage after outrage. Only during the past week,
I've had to bind up two broken heads, and strap up a broken shoulder,
where the poor fellows had made a brave fight for it--one man against
seven or eight."
"You don't mean that!" cried Ralph flushing.
"But I do, boy. They are growing worse and worse, and making themselves
a scourge to the country."
"I did not know it was so bad."
"No, I suppose not, sir; and here are you people living safely in your
castles, with plenty of stout men about you, ready to arm and defend you
behind your walls and gates. But if the scoundrels came and robbed you,
perhaps you would do something. Don't you think you ought to begin?"
"Yes, that I do," cried Ralph quickly. "My father has been talking
about it for some time."
"Yes; and so has Sir Edward Eden been talking about it for some time;
but neither of them does anything, and the wasps' nest thrives; all the
best things in the country are carried up there--the wasps robbing the
bees; and I, though I am a man of peace, say that it is the duty of you
gentlemen to burn that wasps' nest out before anything worse is done,
for the ruffians grow more bold and daring every day, feeling, I
suppose, that they can do these things with impunity."
"Father shall do something at once," cried the lad.
"That's right," cried the old man, patting his late patient on the
shoulder. "I don't want blood shed, and I hardly think any of your
people would come to much harm, for, like most scoundrels of their kind,
I believe the enemy would prove miserable cowards."
"They have proved to be so," cried Ralph warmly. "Father must act now."
"I'll tell you what he ought to do, boy," said the old man, grasping his
visitor by the arm. "Of course he need not make friends, but he ought
to go or send to the Black Tor, and ask Sir Edward to head so many men,
your father doing the same; and then they could march together, and rout
out the scoundrels."
"Yes, it would be easy enough then," said Ralph sadly; "but I know my
father too well: he would not do that."
"No," said the old man, "he would not do that."
The tone in which this was said roused the lad's indignation.
"Well," he said hotly, "do you think this Sir Edward Eden would come and
ask my father to join him?"
"No, boy, I do not," replied the old man, "for I said something of this
kind to Mark Eden only yesterday, when I was fishing up that way, and he
spoke just in the same way as you do."
"You saw him yesterday?" said Ralph eagerly. "How is he?"
"What's that to do with you?" said the old man rather roughly. "You
don't want to know how your enemy is. But all the same, his leg is
nearly well. He limps a little: that is all. Going?"
"Yes," said Ralph hurriedly; "I must be off now. I am going on about a
mile, and coming back this way. Perhaps I shall see you then."
"Going about a mile? Not going to see old Mother Garth?"
"Yes: to take her a present from my sister. Nick told her about his
mother being robbed."
"And your sister wants to make it up to her. Poor old woman! she is in
great trouble, but she will not hear of leaving her cottage up there on
the moor; and she says that next time the men come to rob her, they'll
find she has two pots of boiling water ready for them."
Ralph laughed, and went off, crossed the river at the shallows, and
climbed the ascent to where the old woman lived in her rough stone cot,
in its patch of garden; and as soon as he had given his present, with an
addition from his own purse, and the fierce old lady had secured it in
her pocket, she turned upon him angrily, upbraiding him and his for
allowing such outrages to be committed.
"But there," she cried, when quite out of breath, "it's of no use to
speak: there are no men now, and no boys. When I was young, they'd have
routed out those wretches and hung them before they knew where they
were. But only let them come here again, and they shall know what
boiling water is."
"They'll be well punished before long," said Ralph, as soon as he could
get in a word.
"I don't believe it," cried the old woman. "Don't tell me! I want to
know what my boy, Nick, is about for not making his master do something.
It's shameful. But I see how it is: I shall have to go and do it
myself."
Ralph was not sorry to get away from the ungracious old dame, who stood
at her door, shouting messages to his father about his duty and her
intentions, till the lad was out of sight, when he could not help seeing
the comic side of the matter, and wondered, laughingly, what his father
would say to her if she kept her word, and came up to the castle to ask
him why he and her son, Nick, did not go and punish those wicked men for
coming and stealing her bag of meal.
"I should like to be there," said Ralph, half-aloud, as he tramped on:
and then his thoughts took a serious turn again, and he began to ponder
upon the possibilities of his father and their men attacking Captain
Purlrose, and the chances of success.
"It ought to be done," thought Ralph, as he began to climb the path
leading to the shelf upon which Master Rayburn's cottage was built,
half-a-mile farther on, "so as to take them by surprise when part of the
men are away. It can hardly be called cowardly with men like them.
Then we could hide in the cavern, and wait till the rest came back, and
take them prisoners too. What's that?"
He listened, and made out the sound of a horse galloping, wondering the
while who it could be. Then his interest increased, for the track was
narrow and stony, and ran along like a shelf beside the cliff, with a
steep descent to the river--altogether about as dangerous a place for a
canter as any one could choose. But he recalled immediately how
sure-footed the ponies of the district were, and thought no more of it
for a few moments. Then his face flushed as he remembered how Mark Eden
had galloped after him. Would it be he, and if so, now they were going
to meet again, would it be upon inimical terms, and with drawn swords?
His heart began to beat faster, and the next minute it was beating
faster still, for he caught sight, at a curve of the track, of the pony
and its burden, not Mark Eden, but a lady; and then his heart seemed to
stand still in his horror at seeing that she had lost control of the
spirited little animal, which was tearing along as hard as he could go.
The next minute it was nearly abreast of Ralph, who, without thinking of
the consequences of such an act, leaped at the rein, caught it, and was
dragged along some twenty yards, before, snorting and trembling, the
little animal, which he knew as Mark Eden's, stopped short, and began to
rear.
"Quick!" shouted the lad. "I can't hold him: try and slip off."
His words were heard by the frightened rider, but there was little need
to tell her to slip off, for the pony reared again, nearly upright, the
rider glided from the saddle over the animal's haunches, and fell
amongst the bushes by the track, while Ralph was dragged onward again.
It all occurred in a few moments, the pony stopped, reared again, made
another bound, dropped off the track, and, as Ralph loosed his hold,
rolled over and over down the steep slope right into the river with a
tremendous splash, which cooled it on the instant; and it regained its
feet, scrambled actively ashore, gave itself a shake, and then began to
graze, as if nothing was the matter.
"Mark Eden's sister," thought Ralph, as he hurriedly climbed back to the
track, where, looking wild and scared, Mary Eden had just regained her
feet, and was standing trembling.
"Are you hurt?" he cried aloud.
"Yes, dreadfully. No: I don't think so. Only scratched," she replied,
half-crying. "I couldn't stop him. He hasn't been out lately. He ran
away with me. What shall I do?" she sobbed now. "Mark will be so
angry. Is his pony much hurt?"
"Oh, never mind the pony," cried Ralph, taking her hand. "Here, let me
help you to Master Rayburn's."
"But I do mind about the pony," cried the girl angrily. "It doesn't
matter about me. Do you think he has broken his knees, or his legs?"
"It does not seem like it," said Ralph, smiling. "Look, he is browsing
on the thick grass down there."
"Is--is my face much scratched?"
"Hardly at all," said Ralph.
"Then thank you so for stopping him; I was so frightened. Ah, look!
there's Master Rayburn."
She clapped her hands with delight, as she caught sight of the old man,
hatless, and with his white hair flying, running down the path. Then
turning, back to Ralph, she said, naively:
"Please, who are you? Oh, I know now. I haven't seen you for two
years, and--"
She shrank away from him in a peculiarly cold and distant manner, and at
that moment Master Rayburn panted up.
"Much hurt, my dear?" he cried excitedly, as he caught the girl in his
arms.
"No, no, I think not," she said, beginning to sob anew.
"Thank God! thank God!" cried the old man fervently.--"Hah! My heart
was in my mouth. Why can't people be content to walk? Come back home
with me, my child. Here, Ralph Darley, how was it? Did you stop the
brute?"
"I tried to," said the lad quietly, "but I couldn't hold him long."
"Long enough to save her, my lad," cried the old man, looking from one
to the other in a peculiar way.--"How strange--how strange!" he
muttered.
Then aloud, in an abrupt way:
"There, never mind the pony. You be off home, sir. I'll take care of
this lady."
Ralph coloured a little, and glanced at the girl, and as she met his
eyes, she drew herself up stiffly.
"Yes, sir," she said, "Master Rayburn will take care of me. Thank you
for stopping my pony."
She bowed now, in the stately way of the period, clung closely to the
old man, turning her back upon her rescuer, who unnecessarily bowed, and
walked on up the steep path, wondering that the pony had not come down
headlong before.
Then he felt disposed to look back, but his angry indignation forbade
that, and he hurried on as fast as he could on his way home, passing
Master Rayburn's cottage, and then, a hundred yards farther on, coming
suddenly upon a riding-whip, which had evidently been dropped. The lad
leaped at it to pick it up, but checked himself, and gave it a kick
which sent it off the path down the slope toward the river.
"I'm not going to pick up an Eden's whip," he said proudly. "Just like
her brother," he muttered, as he went on faster and faster, to avoid the
temptation of running back to pick it up. "They are a proud, evil
race," as father said. "What did I want to interfere for, and stop the
pony? It was looked upon as an insult, I suppose. I don't like the
Edens, and I never shall."
Ralph's adventures for that day were not ended. A quarter of a mile
farther on he heard footsteps in front. Some one was running, and at a
turn of the track a lad came into sight, whom he recognised as Dummy
Rugg, one of the mine lads. The pair came closer quickly, and Ralph saw
that he was recognised, and that the boy was scowling at him, passing
him with rather an evil look, but stopping the next minute, and running
back after him. As soon as he heard the steps returning, Ralph faced
round, his left hand seeking the sheath of his sword, to bring it round
in case he should want to draw. But the next minute he saw that the lad
had no evil intent.
"Look here," cried Dummy, "did you see a young lady on a pony?"
"Yes."
"Was it going fast?"
"As fast as it could go," said Ralph haughtily.
"Not running away wi' her?"
"Yes," said Ralph, rather enjoying the boy's anxiety, in his ruffled
state.
"I knowed it would: I knowed it would!" cried the boy wildly; "and she
would have it out. Here! gone right on?"
"Yes."
"Ah! And you never tried to stop it. Oh, wait till I see you again!"
Ralph did not feel in the humour to stop and explain to one who had
threatened him so offensively, and he would have felt less so still if
he had known that Dummy Rugg had followed him that night through the
dark woods, till he met his father.
"Let him find out for himself," he muttered. "I have nothing to do with
the Edens, and we can none of us ever be friends."