The Black Tor | Page 7

old enemy of his house completely humbled.
Sir Morton hesitated and turned his head, to find his son watching him keenly, while Captain Purlrose stood with his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword, making the scabbard cock out behind, and lift up the back of his ragged cloak, as with his right he twisted up and pointed one side of his rusty-grey fierce moustache.
The man was watching Sir Morton keenly, and his big ears twitched, as he tried to catch the whispered words which passed between father and son.
"What do you say, Ralph, lad? With the help of these men I could easily make Eden bite the dust. Then the Black Tor would be mine, and afterwards yours; with all the rich revenue to be drawn from the lead-mine. It is very tempting, boy."
"Yes, father," said the boy hotly, and his face flushed as he spoke; "but that's what it is--a miserable temptation. We'll humble the Edens, and have the Black Tor and the lead-mine; but we'll win all with our swords like gentlemen, or fail. We could not go and take the place with a set of ruffians like those outside, and helped by such a man as yonder bully. You couldn't do it, father. Say no."
"Hah! More insults," cried Purlrose, who had caught a word here and there. "But no; lie still, good sword: he is a beardless boy, and the son of the brave comrade I always honoured, whate'er my faults."
Ralph turned upon him angrily; but his father laid a hand upon the boy's shoulder, and pressed it hard.
"Right, Ralph, lad," he said warmly, and he looked proudly in the boy's eyes. "I could not do it in that way."
"Hah!" ejaculated the lad, with a sigh of content.
"No, Purlrose," continued Sir Morton. "I shall not avail myself of your services. Go into the hall and refresh yourself and your men. Come to me afterward, and I will help you as I said."
"With a mouthful of bread, and a few pence, and after all this weary journey across these wild moors. But I see: it is all through the words of this beardless boy. Suppose I tell you that, now I have come, I mean to stay?" he added threateningly.
"Shall I get the men together, father?" said Ralph quickly.
"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