It was scarce
two minutes from the time when the first shot was fired, but it
seemed ages to him before he dashed into the group of men, knocking
down two by the impetus of his rush. He was but just in time.
A figure lay prostrate on the turf; another standing over him had
just been beaten to his knee. But he sprang up again at Luke's
onward rush. His assailants for a moment drew back.
"Thou'rt joist in toime, Luke," Bill panted out. "Oi war well nigh
done."
"Be t' maister shot?"
"No, nowt but a clip wi' a stick."
As the words passed between them the assailants again rushed forward
with curses and execrations upon those who stood between them and
their victim.
"Moind, Luke, they ha' got knoives!" Bill exclaimed. "Oi ha' got
more nor one slash already."
Luke and Bill fought vigorously, but they were overmatched. Anger
and fear for Ned's safety nerved Luke's arm, the weight of the
last twenty years seemed to drop off him, and he felt himself again
the sturdy young cropper who could hold his own against any in the
village. But he had not yet got back his breath, and was panting
heavily. The assailants, six in number, were active and vigorous
young men; and Bill, who was streaming with blood from several
wounds, could only fight on the defensive. Luke then gave a short
cry of relief as the two men who had started with him, but whom
he had left behind from the speed which his intense eagerness had
given him, ran up but a short minute after he had himself arrived
and ranged themselves by him.
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