"All quiet enough now," when a voice, apparently close to his elbow, said hoarsely: "No. I'm not going to walk into a trap." There was a good deal in those few words, for to Mark, among other things, they meant that if the speaker was not going to walk into a trap, it was because he must have food enough to last him for some time longer, and was not willing to lay down his arms. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. DUMMY RUGG HAS THE THINKS. The blockade was strictly kept up at the mouth of the cavern, Sir Edward having cast aside, at all events for the time being, every feeling of enmity; and in spite of the many disappointments, he grew day by day more determined to rout out the gang, and rescue their prisoners. "Only tell me what to do, Mark, my boy, and if it is possible, it shall be done. If we go on blasting the place we shall end by shutting them in beyond recovery," said Sir Edward, "a good enough thing to do as far as the ruffians are concerned, but we shall destroy Sir Morton Darley and his child." "I can't think of anything, father," said Mark, gloomily. "I suppose we can only wait." "That is the conclusion I always come to, my boy. All we can do is to be perfectly ready for the moment when, utterly desperate, they will surrender or break out." "I hope they'll fight, father," said Mark grimly. "Why?" "Because it would be so horrible for them to surrender. I'd rather see them die fighting." "Yes," said Sir Edward, frowning heavily. "Hanging prisoners was all very well a hundred years ago. We don't want to do that sort of thing nowadays. There, run over to the Tor, and see how things are going. You need not hurry back. Tell Mary I shall come myself to-morrow, and that I'm getting very tired of sleeping in a cavern." "But suppose the men try to break out while I'm gone, father." "Well, if they do, I shall have all the honour of the fight." "But I shall not like that," said Mark. "I might say the same to you to-morrow, my boy," said Sir Edward, smiling. "Go and see how young Darley is; we cannot give up everything to this business." Mark started for home, leaving his father with a strong enough guard to master the men if they attempted to escape; and before he had gone fifty yards, Dummy came trotting after his young master like a dog. "Hullo! what is it, Dummy?" cried Mark, stopping short. "Only coming home with you, Master Mark. Saw you, and father said he didn't want me." "Oh, very well. Getting tired of it?" "Ever so, Master Mark. I liked it when we were firing the powder, or having a bit of a fight, but it's so stupid to be doing nothing but sit down and watch a wall, like dogs after rabbits that won't ever come." "Yes," said Mark, with a sigh, "it is weary work." "Father says he don't believe they'll ever come." "But they must, when they've finished their food."