“Then we’ll rout them out; and if we can’t do that, we’ll drive them farther in, and pile up big stones at the entrance, and starve them till they surrender.”
“Yes,” cried Ralph eagerly, as he looked at his companion with the same admiration Mark had displayed when he had proposed taking the torches. “Capital: for the place is so big, that I don’t believe we could find them all. Yours will be the way.”
“Well, I think it is right,” said Mark suddenly; “but we must catch old Purlrose to-night.”
“We will if we can,” said Ralph.
“Well then, that’s all. It’s as easy as easy. All we’ve got to do is to get our best men together, and meet—Ah! where shall we meet?”
“At Steeple Stone, half-way there. That will be about the same distance for you to come as for us.”
“That’s good,” cried Mark gleefully. “But we must have a word to know each other by. What do you say to ‘foes?’”
“Oh, that won’t do,” said Ralph. “‘Friends?’”
“But we’re not friends; we’re—we’re—what are we.”
“Allies,” said Ralph quietly.