You're a brave lad, and I'll never call you an enemy again." "Humph! No," said Dan Rugg, who was close to him.

"I s'pose all that's dead as mutton now.

Look here, Nick Garth, I never see a man who could fight as well as you, and if you'd got a decent paw I'd say shake hands." "Say it, mate," said Nick, and he painfully lifted a wounded arm, to place his bandaged hand in that of the old miner who had hated him all his life.
A man had been started off as soon as the news was known to fetch more help from the Black Tor; and, as tidings fly swiftly, assistance soon came from every farm and cottage for miles, the women flocking up to Ergles, and eagerly helping to bear the sufferers to their homes.
Sir Edward and Sir Morton went last, each borne upon a litter, Minnie being provided with a pony, led by one of her father's men, who kept on shaking his head and saying that he couldn't understand it, for it seemed so strange that his master and young mistress and their leaders should be going up to the Black Tor.
He said this to Nick Garth, who was lying with closed eyes upon a roughly-made litter of poles.
"Well," said Nick roughly, "who can?
It's 'cause they say the world turns round, and sometimes we're standing on our heads and sometimes on our feet; we're on our heads now, and it's o' no use to kick when your legs are in the air." There was one more task to see to, though, before Mark left the place, with its plunder in charge of Dan Rugg and a guard, so that the robbers' stores could be restored to their rightful owners.
Over this matter Mark had a whispered consultation with the two wounded knights, and then went off to Rugg.
"Well, yes, Master Mark," said that worthy; "I was thinking o' something o' that sort.

Right in that little chamber place.

A good thick wall, and well made, with plenty o' lime.