"Of course you were, my lad! We must all make common cause against such an enemy. No, I will not say anything unless you wish me to." "Thank ye. Father mightn't like it, you see." "But you will tell him?" "No, I think not--I don't know--well, there, not to-night. I'm giddy, and feel sick. I didn't notice it so much when I was hot and all in the fight, but it's very painful now. Would you mind putting your arm round me? I feel as if I should fall off." "My poor brave boy!" said the old man gently, as he supported the wounded lad. "There, only a little farther. Ah! Hoi! Rugg! Dummy Rugg! Here, quick!" The lad, who was perched upon a block of stone half-way up the zigzag, evidently watching for his young master's return, sprang down and came running to them. "What's the matter?" he cried hoarsely. "Don't say Master Mark's hurt!" "Hush! Quiet, boy!" said Master Rayburn quickly. "Help me to get him into his own room without frightening Miss Mary." "Yes; but what's the matter?" cried the boy. "Been attacked--fighting--slightly wounded." "But who done it?--I know. It was them Darleys. Which of 'em was it?" "Quiet, I tell you, boy! Can't you see he has fainted? Why do you want to know?" "To kill him," said the lad, through his teeth. "Humph! you young savage," muttered Master Rayburn; "then you will not know from me. Lead the pony carefully, Dummy," he continued aloud. "Where is Sir Edward? where is your young mistress?" "Out in the garden, waiting for him to come home to supper. Who hurt him?" "Will you mind the pony's head, or must I come and lead him?" cried the old man angrily. "Yes; but I want to help Master Mark," cried the lad. "Mind the pony, sir. Ah! here is one of the men. Here, you are stronger than I am. Lift Master Mark up carefully, so as not to jar his leg. Dummy, run in and get a chair." This was done, another of the serving men coming out to see what was the matter, and they lifted and bore in the half-fainting lad; while Master Rayburn disencumbered himself of his creel and rod, and prepared to follow, to turn chirurgeon instead of angler, when Dummy caught him by the sleeve. "You won't tell me who did it?" he said sharply. "No: it is no affair of yours, boy," said the old man; and he shook him off, and entered the gate. "Yes, it is," muttered Dummy; and he did what he had never done before-- sprang after the old man, entered the hall, and caught him by the sleeve. "You here, sir!" cried Master Rayburn. "What is it now?" "Is Master Mark going to die?" "Yes, when he grows to be an old man. Not now. Go away." "Yes, I'll go away," muttered Dummy, as he slunk out, and away through the gate. "But I want to know who it was. I know it was one of them Darleys, and I'm going to see; and if it was, I'll kill him."