At the sight of gashed and bloody faces, seen for a moment in the crowd,
then hidden by the press around them, Barnaby turned pale and sick. But
he stood his ground, and grasping his pole more firmly yet, kept his
eye fixed upon the nearest soldier--nodding his head meanwhile, as Hugh,
with a scowling visage, whispered in his ear.
The soldier came spurring on, making his horse rear as the people
pressed about him, cutting at the hands of those who would have grasped
his rein and forced his charger back, and waving to his comrades to
follow--and still Barnaby, without retreating an inch, waited for his
coming. Some called to him to fly, and some were in the very act of
closing round him, to prevent his being taken, when the pole swept into
the air above the people's heads, and the man's saddle was empty in an
instant.
Then, he and Hugh turned and fled, the crowd opening to let them pass,
and closing up again so quickly that there was no clue to the course
they had taken. Panting for breath, hot, dusty, and exhausted with
fatigue, they reached the riverside in safety, and getting into a boat
with all despatch were soon out of any immediate danger.
As they glided down the river, they plainly heard the people cheering;
and supposing they might have forced the soldiers to retreat, lay upon
their oars for a few minutes, uncertain whether to return or not.
Pages:
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661