"Oh, Ned, I know what 'tis!" cried his sister, with sudden intuition. "For God's sake, dear, leave that to the Ratcliffes; it is not—not seemly to tamper with the dead." She pointed across the black remnants of the peats that strewed the threshold, and shuddered knowing what lay so close against the house-wall there.
Wayne flashed round on her, and the four lads, listening awe-struck from the far-end of the hall, shrank further back to hear the clear bitterness of voice he had.
"All shall be seemly henceforth—all, I say! I'll hunt the Lean Man as he hunts me—ay, and his tokens shall be mine. Hark ye, Nell! We're over soft, we Waynes— Come here, lads," he broke off, beckoning to his brothers.
Griff came and stood before him, the others following slowly. "Yes, Ned?" he asked, breaking a hard silence.
"Ye were fools to stand up to Red Ratcliffe as I saw you do to-night. They would never do the like."
"Was't not well done, then?" said the lad, the corners of his mouth drooping.
Wayne laughed exceeding softly. "Ay, 'twas done as I would have you do it. God rest you, youngsters, and when your turn comes to hold the weapons—strike deep and swift."
He was gone without another word, and Nell looked at Wayne of Cranshaw in search of guidance.
Rolf shook his head. "As well dam Hazel Beck with straws as stop Ned when the black mood is on him," he said.
They heard him stop just outside the door, then clank across the courtyard; and soon the sound of hoof-beats was dying down the chill breeze that rustled from the moors.