"My name is Miles Paton, and I am the son of Sir Thomas Paton of Woodstock," said Miles.
Something like a hush fell upon the group that was near him as he said this. Miles was sensible of it although no word was spoken, and he wondered whether these were some of the villains who had killed his brother, and would only be too glad to kill him now they had got the chance. But he would not let them see his fears. He asked them in a calm voice to loosen the rope round his wrists, for it was cutting sorely into the flesh, and caused him great agony. But they paid no attention to his request. That he was a son of Sir Thomas Paton was a fact that needed a good deal of discussion it seemed; and the men turned away and left their captors to consider among themselves what their next step should be.
Miles groaned aloud, for the pain and strain of wrists and arms wrung this from him, while poor Reuben, giving himself up for lost, bellowed aloud for his poor old father and mother.
"Don't, don't, Reuben—be a man," said Miles, when, just as he spoke and before he could say another word, there came a stealthy hand out of the darkness at the back, and, to Miles' intense surprise, began untying the knotted rope.
"Cry—groan—make a noise," were the whispered words spoken in his ear by a woman's voice, and Miles felt sure he had heard that voice before somewhere.
He gave the requisite groans, while Reuben indulged in a low, half-suppressed howl, that was sufficient to let the rest of the party know that they were having an uncomfortable time of it, and so give the woman a chance of loosening their bonds.
They found that she did not dare to leave them untied, but the slackening of the thongs was an intense relief, and when she had finished her task he asked her name.
"Patty Bunce," answered the woman, "and my husband worked for Farmer Rankin until we were all turned off the land to make room for the sheep, and now we are all beggars here, or worse." The poor woman then burst into tears in spite of her efforts to keep calm and still for fear she should be discovered.
She made haste to leave that part of the cave, and Miles heard her voice calling to one of her children the next minute.
As he lay now he managed to see more of this motely crew. Men, women, and children of all ages seemed to have found a shelter here, for there was a dull fire of sticks burning in the middle of the cave, and here such primitive cooking was done by one and another as their means would afford.