"Tidn't me," gasped Blob. "It's ma legs. They keep on a-creakin."
Swiftly they fled across the grass.
Was there anybody at the lugger?—were they free?
The boy was sick with hope.
Behind him he could hear far yells and the occasional clash of steel. Kit guessed what had happened. The Parson, wary old man of war, his ruse successful, the enemy drawn off, had flung back into the fight.
So far his plan had worked to a miracle.
The boy recalled Piper's last words.
His sarvice to Lard Nelson!
Piper never doubted then. Piper had been sure.
And Piper was right. The Lord was on their side. He felt it, and his spirit began to sing.