“Dummy Rugg, father.”
“And you, my boy? Thank Heaven! I was afraid something was wrong.”
“Then it was you two with my powder,” cried another voice out of the darkness.
“Yes, Dan Rugg, and a splendid use they made of it,” cried Sir Edward. “Well done, my lads. But come into shelter; they surprised us, with everything left open. We must lock the stable door now. Think they’ll come again, Rugg?”
“Nay, Sir Edward; not to-night. Those explosions will bring our lads up to see what’s the matter.”
“Well, secure the gates as we go in.”
Dan Rugg was right. Within half-an-hour a dozen men had come up and been admitted, ready to meet the enemy should he return, but the silence up at the Black Tor was not disturbed again that night.
“Out of revenge for you boys’ attack,” said Sir Edward, when he had heard his son’s account of their proceedings in the mine, and Dummy’s clever thought about the powder. “It might have meant the loss of this place. But there must be an end to it now. You lads were so handy with the powder-bags that you shall try your hands upon that wasps’ nest, for I can’t rest now till I’ve had it well burnt out. Pity more powder was not used this time. I don’t believe they were more than singed, and half my windows were smashed.”
“But if we had used more powder, father,” said Mark, smiling, “we might have knocked down the place.”