Nancy staggered against the wall, sick with horror. Men followed behind, but none were near enough to succour her. She could see no outlet—no means of escape. Her limbs seemed paralysed with the shock, so that she could not even run.
"O God, help me! Oh, help!" That cry went up from Nancy's heart, as the sense of her peril grew upon her. It was not the vague despairing cry of one who has never thought of God till danger or death threaten. Nancy had known God from very infancy as her great and loving Father in heaven,—as One to whom, in the Name of Christ, she might always have full and instant access. She had a childlike trust in His great might. It was the instinct of her heart to cry to Him in need.
Nancy did not see it, but help was at hand. Her dilated eyes, fixed upon the poor mad creature rushing towards her, could look in no other direction.
Archie Stuart had entered the nearer end of the lane, behind Nancy, just before the dog appeared.
He did not recognise her at first as the girl whose pretty and gentle face had taken his fancy. But without recognising Nancy Dunn, he did recognise a woman in danger,—and, happily, that was enough.
What to do? was the question. Alone he could have climbed the wall without difficulty, for he was an active young fellow. But with Nancy! That made all the difference.
The gate lay a few paces beyond Nancy, between her and the dog. The best hope lay there, if it could be reached in time. Flight seemed hopeless.
"Don't be frightened!" a voice said at her side. "Here,—this way!"
Nancy clutched her deliverer's arm with one sharp cry; and before she knew what was happening, he had dragged her to the gate.
Some men in Archie's place might have thrown themselves to the top first, and pulled up the girl after. But somehow Archie could not do that. All the manliness of his nature revolted from putting himself in safety while a woman stood below within reach of the dog.