“I never felt so proud of you both in my life.”
Ralph smiled.
“That’s very good of you, Master Rayburn,” he said, “and it’s a bit comforting; but I’ve got father to meet by-and-by.”
“And so have I, my boy,” cried the old man warmly, “to take the blame of it all. For it was my doing from beginning to end. I incited you lads to go and do this, and I shall tell your father it is only what he and Sir Edward Eden ought to have done months ago.”
“But we failed—failed,” groaned Ralph dismally.
“Failed! You have not done all you meant to do, but you have read those ruffians a severe lesson, and next time—”
“Ah! next time,” sighed Ralph.
“Come, Ralph! Be a man. Nothing great is ever done without failure first. Your father will be angry, and naturally. He’ll scold and blame, and all that; but I know what he is at heart, and he’ll think as I do, that he need not be ashamed of his son, even if he has failed.”
The quarters were reached soon after, and the sufferer who had been carried back received the first attention, the others all having their turn; and just as the last bandage had been applied, Sir Morton, who had been having a walk round, came upon the pikes, stained and blunted, leaning against a buttress of the wall. This brought him to the men’s quarters, and in utter astonishment he stood gazing at the scene.
“Ah! good morning,” said Master Rayburn, in answer to his wondering look from his son to the injured men and back. “They’ll be easier now. Only one hurt much, and he’ll be all right again after a few days’ rest.”