The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the FirstFenn, George Manville
History
The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First
Fenn, George Manville
Great Britain -- History -- James I, 1603-1625 -- Juvenile fiction
"Very," said the old man drily; and his eyes sparkled in the gloom at
the frank way in which the two deadly enemies were relating their
adventures.
"Then some more came down from up above," continued Mark, "and two more
got up again, and the odds seemed to be too great, and we retreated."
"And very wisely too," said Master Rayburn. "But let me look at your
hurt, Mark, lad.--Tut-tut! soaked with blood.--Wound in the thigh."
"Ah! Don't touch it," shouted the lad. "You hurt."
"This must be seen to, my dear boy. I'll come home with you and dress
it."
"Yes do, please. It makes me wriggle like a worm on a hook; but he's
hurt too."
"Yes, I see. Roughly-bandaged, but, tut-tut-tut--why, the sword thrust
has gone through. There is blood on both sides."
"But it's only through the skin, I think," said Ralph.
"Only through the skin, my lad! It must be worse than that. But the
other side? You paid them for this, I hope."
"Oh yes, we gave them as much as we could, but we didn't kill any one."
"But we saw them carrying one away," said Ralph.
"Oh yes: so we did."
"The villains! And they wounded you both like this."
Mark glanced at Ralph, and Ralph glanced at him.
"No," said Ralph quietly; "they did not wound us."
"Then how came these injuries?" said the old man anxiously.
"Oh, never mind," cried Mark pettishly; "it doesn't matter. We got
'em--somehow."
"How was it, Ralph Darley?" said the old man sternly.
"He overtook me, and we quarrelled, and fought," said the lad quietly.
"Ah!"
"And just in the middle of it we found that these men had surrounded
us."
"Yes, yes, yes; don't make such a fuss about it, Master Rayburn," cried
Mark hastily. "And then we had to join and whip the beggars, and we did
whip 'em at last; and my leg hurts horribly, and you stand there
talking, instead of coming home to doctor it."
"Yes," said the old man, looking at the lad curiously, and then at
Ralph. "Come along, boy. You, Darley, you had better come up to the
Black Tor, and be attended to there."
"No, thank you, Master Rayburn; I must make haste back. Come and see to
my arm when you have done his."
Ralph turned upon his heel as he spoke, and hurried away through the
bushes; while, feeling puzzled, and yet pleased and hopeful, Master
Rayburn gave the cob its head, and walked on and up the steep zigzag
beside his young friend, carefully avoiding all allusion to the lads'
duel, and discussing the possibility of an expedition to drive the
marauders out of their stronghold.
"I'm not a man of war, Mark," he said; "but I shall have to carry a pike
instead of an eel-spear against these villains. We shall none of us be
safe."
"Oh yes, we'll talk about that to-morrow," said Mark peevishly. "This
hurts horribly. I say, don't say anything to my father about my
fighting alongside that young Darley. I was obliged to, you see."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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