"No, boy, there is no need," said Sir Morton firmly. "I am not afraid of Michael Purlrose's threats." "What!" cried the man. "You do not know me yet." "Better than you know yourself, sir," said Sir Morton, rising. "That is the way to the hall. Have the goodness to go first." The captain threw his cloak back over his right shoulder, slapped his right hand heavily upon his rusty breast-plate, and then, with a flourish, caught at the hilt of his sword, and again half drew it from its sheath, to stand scowling at Ralph, the intentness of his gaze seeming to affect his eyes, so that they began to lean towards each other, as if for help, till his look became a villainous squint. Then, as neither father nor son quailed before him, he uttered a loud "Hah!" thrust back his sword, and strode with a series of stamps to the door, his high, buff-leather boots rustling and creaking the while. There he faced round. "I give you one more chance, Morton Darley," he cried. "Yes or no?" "No," said Sir Morton firmly. "One moment before it is too late. Are we to be friends or foes?" "Neither," shouted Ralph quickly. "Yes, boy, one or the other. You, Morton Darley, will you take me into your service, or do you drive me into going straight to your rival and enemy, who will jump at my offer, and pay me better than I could expect of you?" "Go where you please, sir," said Sir Morton. "Ah, you drive me to it, when I would have been your friend. There, it must be so; but don't blame me when you are humbled in the dust." "Why, if you go there," cried Ralph, "Sir Edward Eden will make his men disarm your crew of ragged Jacks, and set you all to work in his mine." "What! Never. Now, Darley, once more--friends or foes?" "Neither, I tell you, man. Now leave my place at once, you and yours. I will neither help you nor have any further dealings with you. Go." "What!" roared Purlrose; and this time he drew his sword fully, and Ralph's bright blade followed suit, glittering, while the captain's looked rusty and dull. "Pooh! put up your sword, Ralph," said Sir Morton, advancing toward their visitor, who began to shrink back. "Sheathe your blade, sir," he said sternly, and without paying the least attention to the man's bullying looks, he threw open the door, and pointed to the entrance. He passed out, giving the door behind him a heavy slam, and marched out to the group standing about the broad steps and road, where father and son could hear him haranguing his men, who immediately burst into an angry yell, and for the most part turned menacingly toward the house. CHAPTER THREE. ABOUT THE ENEMY. "Shall I fasten the door, father?" cried Ralph excitedly. "No," said Sir Morton firmly. "I know my man of old."