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Updated: July 25, 2025
He seemed to be right, for as report after report of raids being made, here and there in the neighbourhood of the two strongholds reached their owners, Sir Morton Darley would vow vengeance against the marauders, and then go back to his books; and Sir Edward Eden would utter a vow that he would hang Captain Purlrose from the machicolations over the gateway at the Black Tor, and then he would go into his mining accounts, and hear the reports of his foreman, Dan Rugg, about how many pigs there were in the sty that is to say, pigs of lead in the stone crypt-like place where they were stored.
"Halt!" cried that gentleman sharply, without stirring from his position. "Now, Captain Purlrose, what is your business with me?" "Business with you? Is this my reception, after long years of absence? Ah, I see! The war-worn soldier forgotten once again. Ah, Sir Morton Darley, why humble me before my gallant men?" "I have not forgotten you, Captain Purlrose.
"You wouldn't," he said. "But I say, Master Mark, think old Purlrose will haunt me?" "Bah!" ejaculated Mark. "There, come along; I want to get home and let Master Rayburn do something to my bit of a wound. It hurts so I can hardly walk." "Here, let me carry you, Master Mark. Pig-a-back. I can." "No, no, Dummy, old lad; but you come to the castle to-morrow, and say you are to walk up and see me.
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