Shrig, others glancing
back over their shoulders towards the dimness behind, whence came a
shrill whistle and the noise of pursuit.
"Ah, you may look!" cried Mr. Shrig, "but I've got ye, my lambs--all
on ye! You, Bunty Fagan, and Dancing Jimmy, I know you, and you know
me, so stand--all on ye. The first man as moves I'll shoot--stone
dead, and v'en I says a thing I--"
A sudden, blinding flash, a deafening report, and, dropping his
pistol, Mr. Shrig groaned and staggered up against the wall. But
Barnabas was ready and, as their assailants rushed, met them with
whirling stick.
It was desperate work, but Barnabas was in the mood for it,
answering blow with blow, and shout with shout.
"Oh, Jarsper!" roared a distant voice, "we're coming. Hold 'em,
Jarsper!"
So Barnabas struck, and parried, and struck, now here, now there,
advancing and retreating by turns, until the flailing stick
splintered in his grasp, and he was hurled back to the wall and
borne to his knees. Twice he struggled up, but was beaten down again,
--down and down into a choking blackness that seemed full of griping
hands and cruel, trampling feet.
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