Stead aimed a blow at the fellow with all his
might, but the slouching hat warded off the full force of the
bludgeon. Then Stead sprang at him and grappled with him. There was
the report of a pistol, and both rolled headlong among the bushes,
but at that moment a fresh shout was heard--a cry of "Villains,
traitors, robbers--what be at?" and a rush of feet, while in the
moonlight appeared Peter Pierce with his fowling piece, another man,
Ben, and four or five dogs.
The robbers never waited to see how small the reinforcement was, and
it made noise enough for the whole hue-and-cry of the parish. Off
they dashed, through the wood, the new comers after them.
But all Patience knew was that Steadfast was lying senseless at the
bottom of the cliff, with poor Growler moaning by him, and licking
his face, and that her hands were wet with what must be blood.
It was too dark to see anything, but she could hardly bear to leave
him, as she hurried back to the hut for the lantern. All this had
taken but few minutes, so that she had only to catch it up from the
table where Stead's book still lay.
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