“Yes, I order you,” said Mark firmly. “It is time it was done.”
“That’s so, Master Mark, and that’s enough. I begin to feel as if I should like a fight.”
“And you shall have it. I’ll be outside, by the horse-stone, with eight swords, eight pikes, and eight belts.”
“That’s good, master; but we must bring our picks as well. We can handle them better than other tools.”
“Very well. You leave your lads down at the bottom, and come up with Dummy to fetch the arms; and mind this: I want to show up well before the Darleys. You’ll pick fine trusty lads who can fight?”
“You leave that to me, Master Mark,” said the old miner. “I’m proud of our family as you are. They shan’t have eight fellows as can equal us, ’cepting me and that stoopid boy.”
“Don’t you mind what he says, Dummy,” cried Mark laughingly; “he doesn’t mean it. There, come along. I want you to help me pick out some good sharp swords and pikes. Mind, Dan, I shall be waiting for you as soon as the last light’s out.”
“I shall be there, Master Mark,” replied the old miner; and the two lads returned to daylight, along the passages sparkling with crystals and bits of ore.
Meanwhile, Ralph was as busy arranging with the retainers at Cliff Castle, and as soon as he had taken Nick Garth into his confidence, that gentleman lay down on the ground, and hid his face.
“Why, what does that mean?” cried the lad.