Chapter Seven.
The Young Enemies.
Eden recovered his presence of mind on the instant, and looking coolly up at Nick Garth, who had shouted at him so insolently, he replied haughtily: “What is it to you, sir? Be off!”
Then, entirely ignoring Ralph, who was looking down, breathless with rage and exertion, he carefully withdrew the egg from the nest, in spite of the pecking of the young ravens, and transferred it to the lining of his cap.
After this he took off his kerchief, and began to twist it up tightly to make an apology for a line with which to tie together the young ravens’ legs.
The two men on either side of Ralph looked at him, as if wondering what he would say.
“Now, then, it’s of no use to peck: out you come, my fine fellows. Quiet, or I’ll wring your necks.”
As Mark spoke, his right hand was in the nest, feeling about so as to get four legs together in his grasp, but this took some little time, and a great deal of fluttering and squealing accompanied the act. But as he worked, Mark thought hard, and of something else beside ravens. How was he to get out of this unpleasant fix, being as he was quite at his enemy’s mercy? But all the same, with assumed nonchalance, he drew out the fluttering ravens, loosened his hold of the shrub with his left hand, and trusted to his powers of retaining his balance, in spite of the birds’ struggles, while in the coolest way possible he transferred the legs from his right hand to his left, and proceeded to tie them tightly.
“There you are,” he said. “I think that’s safe.”