he continued, "is that all you have to say? What about your
young master?"

The man's face was convulsed by a spasm, and he turned away, pointing
the while at the smoking ruins.

"What does he mean by that?" said Mark to another of the men.

"They killed him," said the man hoarsely. "Burned, poor lad! In
yonder."

"No, no," cried Mark excitedly. "He escaped, and came up to us--to ask
for help."

"The young master?" cried Nick, turning back to look at the speaker
fiercely; "why, I see him cut down with my own eyes."

"I tell you, he crawled out of the fire. He's badly wounded and burned,
but he's lying in my room, with Master Rayburn by his side."

"Say that again--say that again, youngster!" cried Nick Garth, as he
caught Mark fiercely by the hand, and thrust his blood-smeared and
blackened face close to him.

"There is no need," said Mark. "He is very bad, but he was able to ask
us for help."

A wild _hurrah_! burst from the men, even the worst wounded waving their
hands, as they crowded round the startled pony, which began to rear, and
tried to unseat his rider.

"Quiet!" cried Mark, patting the spirited little animal's neck, and as
soon as it was quiet, turning to the object of his mission.

"Now," he said, "my father starts this evening to crush out this gang of
miscreants and rescue Sir Morton and your young lady. We have plenty of
swords and pikes, and I have come to ask as many of you as can strike a
blow to join us."

"Is this a trap, young gen'leman, to make an end of us now we're weak
and down?"

"Look in my eyes, Nick Garth," said Mark, gazing straight at the sullen
lowering face. "The Edens are gentlemen, not such vile cowards as that.
Now then, who'll come and strike a blow for Sir Morton, your young
lady, and Master Ralph Darley, lying helpless there?"

"All on us, my lad," cried Nick, with a fierce growl--"all on us as can
manage to crawl."

"Ay," rose in a shout.

"It's all right, lads," continued Nick; "the young gen'leman means what
he says. No one could be such a hound as to come down upon us now. I
says it's right, sir. We trust you, and if you'll give us your hand
like a man-like an Englishman should--we'll come."

Mark's hand went out, and his handsome young face shone with the glow
that was at his heart, as he gripped the grimy blackened hand extended
to him.

He held on tightly, and then gazed wonderingly at the man, whose face
turned of a very ashy hue, and h