"Well, you're a soldier's son, and know best, I suppose. Give the word yourself." Ralph hesitated, for his companion's words seemed to be tinged by a sneer, but he knew that it was madness to stay, and hesitating no longer, he gave the word to retire. "We're not going back for your orders," said one of Mark's followers surlily. "Yes, you are," cried his young master fiercely. "Back home now. March!" There was a low growling on both sides, but the orders were obeyed, and slowly and painfully the two parties, stiff with exertion, and smarting with wounds, filed over the steep stone-besprinkled slope. As they walked down, the two lads drew closer together, and at last began to talk in a low voice about their failure. "Head hurt much?" said Ralph. "Yes, horribly; and I've left that old iron pot behind. Air's cool to it, though." "Shall I bind it up?" "No: don't bleed. I say." "Yes." "How are we going to meet our fathers to-morrow morning? Nice state the poor lads are in." Ralph uttered a gasp at the thought of it. There was no leading prisoners back in triumph, with their hands bound behind them. They were beaten--cruelly beaten, and he was silent as his companion, as they tramped slowly on, at the head of their men, till the Steeple Stone was seen looming up ahead, where they would separate, little thinking that the worst was to come. The lads halted to listen whether there was any sound of pursuit, and the men filed slowly by till they were fifty yards ahead, when all at once voices were heard in altercation, angry words were bandied from side to side; and spurred by the same feeling of dread, the two leaders dashed forward again. Too late! The smouldering fires of years of hatred had been blown up by a few gusty words of bitter reproach. Nick Garth had in his pain and disappointment shouted out that if the party had been all Darleys the adventure would have succeeded. Dan Rugg had yelled back that it was the Darleys who played coward and hung back; and the next moment, with a shout of rage, the two little parties were at one another, getting rid of their rage and disappointment upon those they looked upon as the real enemies of their race. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. RALPH PLEADS GUILTY. It was a savage fight, and before Mark and Ralph, who rushed desperately into the _melee_, not to lead their men, but to separate them, could succeed in beating down the menacing pikes, several more were wounded; and at last they drew off, with their burdens greatly increased by having on either side to carry a couple of wounded men. "We must put it down to Purlrose," said Mark bitterly, as he ran back for a moment to speak to Ralph. "But what do you say--oughtn't we to have our duel now?" "If you like," said Ralph listlessly; "Perhaps we'd better, and then I may be half killed. My father may be a little merciful to me then."