The good, simple citizens, supposing that Phillip Redgill was a well-disposed and gallant person, who, at the risk of his own life among the terrible crew, had rescued an innocent girl, made way for him to the right and left, and even cheered him.
“Hold, villain, hold!” said Ned Warbeck, dashing towards Phillip Redgill.
Redgill stood stock still as if he had suddenly beheld a spectre.
“Ned Warbeck,” he gasped, “again across my path! Make way, fool, or die!”
“Stir but another inch with your precious burden,” said Ned Warbeck, with a determined oath. “Stir but an inch farther this way, and my sword to the hilt shall be buried in your craven carcase!”
With wild-looking eyes and dishevelled hair, almost on end with unnatural fright and alarm, Phillip Redgill was about to drop the insensible girl from his arms, when, with a sudden spring, and a gleaming sword, Ned Warbeck plucked her from his grasp.
A terrible hand to hand conflict now took place between these two hereditary enemies.
It seemed as if all the hatred of their forefathers had gathered in the hearts of these two fierce opponents.
Garnet and Bob Bertram would have rushed to Ned’s assistance; but said Ned Warbeck, in tones of confidence—
“Away, friends, away! leave the affair to me! Do you and your followers storm the Block-House, and let not one of the villains escape. Away, I say! let no one interfere! Make a ring, good citizens, and see fair play; I ask nothing more!”