Chapter Twenty Eight.
Dummy Rugg has the Thinks.
The blockade was strictly kept up at the mouth of the cavern, Sir Edward having cast aside, at all events for the time being, every feeling of enmity; and in spite of the many disappointments, he grew day by day more determined to rout out the gang, and rescue their prisoners. “Only tell me what to do, Mark, my boy, and if it is possible, it shall be done. If we go on blasting the place we shall end by shutting them in beyond recovery,” said Sir Edward, “a good enough thing to do as far as the ruffians are concerned, but we shall destroy Sir Morton Darley and his child.”
“I can’t think of anything, father,” said Mark, gloomily. “I suppose we can only wait.”
“That is the conclusion I always come to, my boy. All we can do is to be perfectly ready for the moment when, utterly desperate, they will surrender or break out.”
“I hope they’ll fight, father,” said Mark grimly. “Why?”
“Because it would be so horrible for them to surrender. I’d rather see them die fighting.”
“Yes,” said Sir Edward, frowning heavily. “Hanging prisoners was all very well a hundred years ago. We don’t want to do that sort of thing nowadays. There, run over to the Tor, and see how things are going. You need not hurry back. Tell Mary I shall come myself to-morrow, and that I’m getting very tired of sleeping in a cavern.”