The Black Tor Part 23
"Joining like that. It's making our swords friends."
"Only till this skirmish is over," said Ralph.
"Oh yes; of course. We can make the blades kiss then. Here, what's that Captain what-you-may-call-him doing, waving his arms like that?"
"Means for them to come on and attack. He's savage because they don't,"
said Ralph.
"Yes, that's it. I believe they're afraid of getting more holes in their jerkins."
"Ha-ha!" laughed Ralph; "and they have no room, I suppose. Look here, let's have a dash for it."
"What! run away? That I won't, from them, so long as I've got a sword."
"Run away! No!" cried Ralph, who was bubbling over with excitement, the slight wound he had received acting as a spur to his natural desire to punish some one for his pain. "Can't you see that if we make a dash at them on one side, we shall only have two to fight for a bit till the others can come up; and we might wound the first two if we're quick, before their companions could attack."
"Well said, general," cried Mark excitedly. "That's right. Let's look sharp then, for my leg hurts as if it was getting stiff."
"Never mind your leg. Hallo! hark!"
"Why don't you come on yourself, then?" shouted one of the men, in answer to a good deal of gesticulation from the captain. "Take care you don't get a hole in your skin."
"Hurrah!" cried Mark; "they are afraid. Ready?"
"Yes; come on!" cried Ralph; and the two lads made a rush at the men who stood in their homeward way, astonishing them so that they turned and ran before the attacking party had gone half-a-dozen paces.
But a yell of execration rose from the others, as they now made a rush after the lads, who became pursuers and pursued as well.
A savage yell, too, came from high up the mountain slope, the captain being joined by the rest of his gang, and standing shouting and waving his hands furiously.
The position now was this: Two men were running, with the lads some five-and-twenty yards behind, and gaining on them fast. Two men were fifty yards away, to right and left; and two more were right behind, sixty or seventy yards, in full pursuit.
"Forward!" shouted Mark. "No mercy, Darley; run your fellow through, and then turn and spit that fellow on your right."
The two men in front heard the words, and redoubled their efforts, but they were heavy, middle-aged scoundrels, and plodded clumsily over the stone-strewed ground; while, forgetting their wounds in the excitement, Mark and Ralph bounded along, leaping blocks that stood in their way, and gaining so fast upon their flying enemies, that in a few minutes they were close up: and the retreating pair, in response to the yells of their companions, and in despair, turned at bay, when Mark, who was first, leaped straight at his man, turning the fellow's rusty sword aside, and came upon the lower part of his chest with his knees, like a stone from a catapult.
Down went the man, with his sword flying out of his hand, and Mark nearly fell a couple of yards beyond him, but, active as a fallow deer, he saved himself by a couple of leaps, as his feet touched the ground; and he turned, to see Ralph's man down and motionless, as his companion leaped to his side, and faced round to meet the next two, who, urged on by the shouts from the hill, charged at them, carried on by their legs, almost involuntarily, their spirit having little to do with it.
The next minute swords were clashing, there were a few quick parries and thrusts, and one man dropped his weapon, as Ralph's sword pa.s.sed through his shoulder, almost simultaneously with a sharp clang, caused by the sh.e.l.l of Mark's weapon striking against that of his adversary, whose blade broke short off at the hilt. Then, without a moment's hesitation, the lad struck sidewise at the fellow with his fist, catching him in the ear, and he staggered sidewise, _hors de combat_.
"Now for the others," cried Ralph wildly, his blood up, and ready for anything; and they were about to dash at them, when, to their utter astonishment, the last two turned and ran up the slope toward their captain and the rest of the party, who were coming to their aid.
"No, no, stop, stop!" yelled Mark, half choking the while with a hoa.r.s.e hysterical laugh. "Oh, what a game! Here, look; that fellow's getting his sword."
Without another word, the pair dashed at the disarmed man, who had risen and picked up his weapon, but he turned and fled.
"Who'd have thought of that?" cried Mark wildly. "Shall we turn and attack the others as they come on?"
"No," said Ralph, recovering his coolness; "let's trot on now. It's madness to try it again."
"Well, I suppose it would be pushing it too far. They can't say we're cowards if we retreat now."
"No; but we can say they are," cried Ralph. "Why, what a set of curs, to be beaten by us."
"Yes, and they can't fight a bit. I could parry their thrusts with a stick. But here; I can't lose my pony. Where is he?"
"And I can't lose my rod and creel," cried Ralph. "There's your pony yonder ahead."
"And your fish are right back there. I'll come with you to fetch them."
"No, no; let them have 'em. We must retreat now. Two, four, six, eight-nine of them now; and I don't think those fellows who are down are much hurt. Come along."
For Captain Purlrose was now descending the slope, and his men were approaching menacingly, spurred on by a shower of oaths, threats, and abuse from their leader.
"Well, I suppose we must; but my blood's up now," said Mark, "and I hate running from such a set of curs."
"So do I," said Ralph; "it's like being beaten, when we won. I say, were you hurt?"
"Only where you jobbed that sword of yours into my leg. Phew! it's getting stiffer every moment. I shan't be able to walk directly. Were you?"
"What, hurt? No, only where you scratched me."
"It was pretty deep, then, for your sleeve's soaked. Here, let me tie my handkerchief round it."
"No, no," said Ralph; "they'll overtake us. Let's make a run for it now."
"Shall we?" said Mark unwillingly.
"Yes, we must. I can't use my arm any more."
"Well, I don't think I can run much farther."
"You must," cried Ralph, sharply as he looked over his shoulder. "We're not fit to fight."
He thrust his sound arm through Mark's, and they ran on pretty swiftly for a hundred yards or so, with the enemy in full pursuit, and then Mark stopped suddenly.
"Can't go--any farther," he said. "My leg's awful."
Ralph looked round, to find that the men had given up the pursuit, and were going back.
"Can we catch your pony?" he said.
"I think so. He's grazing yonder."
"Would he let me catch him?"
"No," said Mark. "He'd be off directly. There, I think I can hobble on now for a bit. What! are they coming again?"
"No; only watching us," said Ralph rather faintly. "Would you mind tying that tightly round my arm?"