.

Captain Purlrose and his merry men had found a place just to their
liking, where they lived like pigs in a hole of the earth, and as
voraciously. He chuckled and crowed as they ate and drank, and waited
till their stock of provisions began to grow low, and then started off
upon a fresh expedition, to gather tribute, as he called it. He did not
expose himself to any risks, but kept his ascendancy over his men by
sheer cunning and ability in making his plans, leading them to where
they could come quite unexpectedly upon some lonely cottage or
farmhouse, ill-use and frighten the occupants nearly to death, adding
insult to injury by loading the spoil of provisions, or whatever it
pleased them to take, on the farmer's horses, leading them away, and
after unloading them at the cave, setting them adrift.

The captain laughed at all threats, for he felt that no one would dare
to follow him to his stronghold; and if an attack were made, he knew
that he could easily beat it off. The only two people near who were at
all likely to trouble him were his old captain, Sir Morton Darley, and
Sir Edward Eden.

"And they'll talk about it, and and threats, and never come."

He seemed to be right, for as report after report of raids being made,
here and there in the neighbourhood of the two strongholds reached their
owners, Sir Morton Darley would vow vengeance against the marauders, and
then go back to his books; and Sir Edward Eden would utter a vow that he
would hang Captain Purlrose from the machicolations over the gateway at
the Black Tor, and then he would go into his mining accounts, and hear
the reports of his foreman, Dan Rugg, about how many pigs there were in
the sty--that is to say, pigs of lead in the stone crypt-like place
where they were stored.

And so time went on, both knights having to listen to a good many
upbraidings from Master Rayburn, who visited and scolded them well for
not combining and routing out the gang from their hole.

"I wish you would not worry me, Rayburn," said Sir Morton one day, in
Ralph's presence. "I don't want to engage upon an expedition which must
end in bloodshed. I want to be at peace, with my books."

"But don't you see that bloodshed is going on, and that these ruffians
are making the place a desert?"

"Yes," said Sir Morton, "it is very tiresome. I almost wish I had taken
them into my service."

"And made matters worse, for they would not have rested till you had
made war