I
"Time!" came the stern voice from without.
The Parson slammed back the last bolt with a clang, and whipped up his sword.
"Ready?"
The man was in a white flame, roaring for battle.
"Yes."
Time had stopped: Eternity was there.
"Then God help us all to die!"
He flung back the door and plunged.
It was a venture of despair; but there was no despair in that heart of oak.
Swift as a flood, and as silent, he made for the wall, the despatch- bag flopping in the small of his back. And his silence added to the terror of his coming.
The white-hearted crew huddling behind the wall felt it. Here and there a scared head dodged up only to duck again.
One man alone left cover and went out to meet the solitary swordsman.
The Gentleman vaulted the wall, and came across the sward with steady eyes, twisting his sword-knot about his wrist.
There was a rimy look about his face, and a snarl in the voice that shouted to the crew behind him,
"Come! close in there! You've got to finish this job before you go.
The soldiers are on your heels, remember."
Close at hand a sudden drum rolled.
It smote the guilty hearts of the Gang like a summons to the Last
Judgment.
"What's that?"
They rose up like dead men and looked behind them. It was not much they saw, but it was sufficient.
Close in their rear, on a rise of the ground, a man stood against the sky, thundering fatally on a monster drum.
He wore a red coat; he was a soldier.
And as they gazed, he beat a furious rat-a-tan-tan and charged.
That was enough. The Gang broke.