ould go free. They
were to a pretty good extent outlaws, and the deed would never be known
beyond their district. The moors and mountains shut them in. But Sir
Morton, Ralph felt, would never sit down quietly. He would for certain
attack and try to punish the Edens, and the feud would grow more deadly
than ever.
Thoughts like these ran through his brain as he lay there, till the
silence was broken by Mark Eden, whose face plainly told of the supreme
pleasure he felt in seeing his young enemy humbled thus before him.
"Well," he said at last, "are you not going to beg to be set at
liberty?"
Ralph looked at him defiantly.
"No," he said.
"Want to be taken up to the Tor, and hung from the tower as a scarecrow
to keep away all the other thieves?"
"What is it to you?" replied Ralph bitterly.
"You came and took our trout," said Mark, with a sneer; and he raised
his foot as if tempted to plant it upon the prisoner's chest.
"Yes, I came and caught some trout: but I looked upon the river as free
to me, as you thought our cliff was free to you."
"Hah!" cried Mark triumphantly; "I knew you would begin to beg for your
life."
"I have not begged," said Ralph coldly. "You spoke to me and I
answered."
"Ropes hurt?" said Mark, after a pause, during which he could find
nothing else to say.
Ralph smiled.
"Look for yourself," he said. "They don't quite cut to the bone."
"Our mine lads are strong," said Mark proudly. "Strong enough to beat
your wretched set of servants if ever they dare come up here."
"So brave and strong that you are glad to hire a gang of ruffianly
soldiers to help you," said Ralph scornfully.
"What? Those fellows in rags and rust? Pooh! We would not have them."
Ralph opened his eyes a little wider.
"The Edens want no paid help of that kind. We're strong enough to come
and take your place whenever we like; but as you won't be there, it will
not matter to you."
"No," said Ralph, who was sick with pain, and faint from the throbbing
caused by his bonds.
"But it would be a pity for my father to have you hung as a scarecrow,"
said Mark mockingly. "I don't like to see such things about. What do
you say to going down to work always in our lead-mine?"
"Nothing," said Ralph coldly.
"Better to live in the dark there, on bread and water, than to be
killed."
Ralph made no reply, but gazed fixedly in the speaker's eyes.
"Better beg for your life, boy," said Mark, plac
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