had drowned their fire; and then they knew that they were betrayed, but resolved to fight like men for it.  Upon fighting I can never dwell; it breeds such savage 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 of the moment went), spurred his great black horse away, and passed into the darkness.

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CHAPTER LXXIII

HOW TO GET OUT OF CHANCERY

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