Collected as always, he snatched the fellow's musket, and sprawling on his face, fired at the Parson's back.
A smuggler fell.
"Thank ye!" gasped the Parson. "Two!" as the second Grenadier went down.
Then the flight of men, pursuer and pursued, dipped out of sight; but Kit could hear the stampede of feet behind the bank racing towards him, then a hiss and stumbling fall.
"Three!" panted the Parson's voice, and in a dying roar, "Mind yourselves, boys! They're on you."
IV
"Ready, Blob!"
The boy was white as steel.
He had no body. He was not afraid.
Nelson was calling him, and he should not call in vain.