avage delight in me; of which I would
fain have less. Enough that all the Doones fought bravely; and like men
(though bad ones) died in the hall of the man they had murdered. And
with them died poor young De Whichehalse, who, in spite of his good
father's prayers, had cast in his lot with the robbers. Carver Doone
alone escaped. Partly through his fearful strength, and his yet more
fearful face; but mainly perhaps through his perfect coolness, and his
mode of taking things.

I am happy to say that no more than eight of the gallant miners were
killed in that combat, or died of their wounds afterwards; and adding
to these the eight we had lost in our assault on the valley (and two of
them excellent warehousemen), it cost no more than sixteen lives to be
rid of nearly forty Doones, each of whom would most likely have killed
three men in the course of a year or two. Therefore, as I said at the
time, a great work was done very reasonably; here were nigh upon forty
Doones destroyed (in the valley, and up at The Warrens) despite their
extraordinary strength and high skill in gunnery; whereas of us ignorant
rustics there were only sixteen to be counted dead--though others might
be lamed, or so,--and of those sixteen only two had left wives, and
their wives did not happen to care for them.

Yet, for Lorna' s sake, I was vexed at the bold escape of Carver.
Not that I sought for Carver's life, any more than I did for the
Counsellor's; but that for us it was no light thing, to have a man of
such power, and resource, and desperation, left at large and furious,
like a famished wolf round the sheepfold. Yet greatly as I blamed the
yeomen, who were posted on their horses, just out of shot from the
Doone-gate, for the very purpose of intercepting those who escaped the
miners, I could not get them to admit that any blame attached to them.

But lo, he had dashed through the whole of them, with his horse at
full gallop; and was nearly out of shot before they began to think of
shooting him. Then it appears from what a boy said--for boys manage to
be everywhere--that Captain Carver rode through the Doone-gate, and so
to the head of the valley. There, of course, he beheld all the houses,
and his own among the number, flaming with a handsome blaze, and
throwing a fine light around such as he often had revelled in, when of
other people's property. But he swore the deadliest of all oaths, and
seeing himself to be vanquished (so far as the luck