“Yes,” replied Master Rayburn calmly; “but it will be necessary for me to come day after day for quite a week. This man will need much attention.”
Sir Edward turned and walked angrily out of the place; and as if not a word had been said, the old man went on with his task until he had ended. Then telling the men to be of good heart, for their injuries were none of them serious, he went to the door with Mark, whose face was troubled and perplexed.
“There, you need not look like that, my lad,” he said. “Your father’s angry now, but he’ll calm down, and I don’t think he will say much to you. It is more likely that he will want to take revenge upon those ruffians. Cheer up, my boy: I’m not angry with you for what you’ve done. It was the fighting afterwards that was the unlucky part.”
The old man hurried away, and Mark stood watching him descend the slope.
“Cheer up, indeed!” he muttered; “who’s to cheer up at a time like this? I wish I hadn’t listened to that miserable scrub of a Darley. I always hated him, and I might have known that associating with him would lead me into trouble.—Well, what do you want?”
This was to Dummy Rugg, who, like his young master, had escaped without much damage.
“Only come to talk to you, Master Mark,” said the boy humbly.
“Then you can be off. I don’t want to talk.”
“I’ll talk, then, and you listen, Master Mark,” said the boy coolly; and Mark opened his eyes, and was about to order the lad off, but Dummy went on quickly. “I’ve been thinking it all over,” he said. “That gunpowder’s the thing. When we go next we’ll take a lot in bags. When we get there, and they’re hiding in that narrow bit, I’ll untie the bags and throw two or three in. Then we can throw three or four torches, and one of them’s sure to set the powder on fire, and start ’em; then we can all make a rush.”
“Oh, then you think that we shall go again?”