They did not dare to move, for they knew the burglars were armed to a far greater extent than they were, and exposure might prove fatal.
Ten minutes passed thus; ten minutes of frightful suspense to these farmers—who were brave but not phlegmatic—who now fought men for the first time, and fought them in the dark.
They could not possibly tell how many there were of their enemies. To fire the only three remaining charges they had would have been an act of madness; they therefore thought it prudent to keep these in reserve for the grand or final conflict.
But the worst was over, as far as the Oakfield housebreakers were concerned.
Presently the eager tramp of men’s feet echoed from the road before the farm, and a dozen rough voices were heard bawling to each other.
The besieged party rushed to the window, and saw in the front of the house one of the village constabulary force, who was accompanied by a posse of strong-bodied youths of the immediate neighbourhood. In addition to these there were shepherds armed with crowbars, stablemen with their pitchforks, bird-keepers with their rusty fowling-pieces, woodmen with their billhooks, and a tall relation of Jane Ryan’s with a substantial kitchen poker.
The reports of the gun and pistol in the dead hour of the night had aroused the whole neighbourhood.
As may be readily imagined, the strong reinforcement at once dispelled all anxiety or doubt in the minds of the farmer’s household.
Three men were instantly mounted, and started off in the dark to the three nearest railway stations. The rest were invited into the kitchen to wait till daybreak.
There had been an unprecedented number of burglaries committed at several houses in the neighbourhood within the space of a few months—hence it was that the rustic population were so keenly alive when any signal of alarm was given.