He was standing far back on the table, entrenched between the wall on one side and the furnace on the other, and every time one of the soldiers ventured too near, his sword would dart out of the gloom: it seemed like a living creature of fire and steel, so quick and bold were his feints and parries, his sudden attacks in quarte and sixte, and all the while he kept one eye on the open Moor, where Jack o' Lantern, quivering with impatience, stood pawing the ground, and sniffing the keen evening air, ready to carry his master away, out upon the Heath, out of sight and out of danger.
Obviously the unequal contest could not last much longer. Jack knew that as well as any one. Already the red dots in the far distance had drawn considerably nearer, the next few minutes would bring this fresh reinforcement to the wearied, exhausted assailants.
The Sergeant too was ready to seize his best opportunity. He still kept two men on guard over the smith, but he soon saw that the two, who were storming Bathurst's improvised citadel, were no match with their clumsy bayonets against a brilliant fencer who, moreover, had the advantage of light and shadow, and of his elevated position.
Though he was wounded, and bleeding profusely, he had set his heart on the capture of this mysterious stranger, and having cast a glance on the open Moor beyond, he saw with renewed zest two more of his men hurrying along. With all the strength he had left he shouted to them to come on, and then turned to encourage the others.
"Take it easy, my men! Hold out a moment longer. We've got the rebel at last."
But Jack too had seen and understood. He was neither tired nor hurt, but two more men against him would inevitably prove his undoing. Already he could hear the shouts of the soldiers hurrying in response to their Sergeant's call. The next minute they would be in the forge.
A sudden change of tactics led his two assailants to venture nearer than they had done hitherto; he drew back into the shadows, and they, fired by the lust of capture, under the impression that he was at last exhausted, ventured nearer and nearer still; already they were leaning over the edge of the table, one man was thrusting at Bathurst's legs, when the latter, with a rapidity that seemed quicker than a flash of lightning, disengaged his left arm from his heavy coat, and with both hands threw it right over the heads of the two men. Before they had time to release themselves from its folds, Jack, with one bound was off the table, and the next instant he had torn open the door of the furnace and dragged out the huge iron poker with which the smith raked his fire, and with a cry of triumph slung this new and formidable weapon high over his head.
The effect of this sudden move was one of uncontrollable panic: the red-hot metal, as he swung it over his head, dropped a far-reaching shower of burning sparks; soldiers and Sergeant all drew back instinctively, and Jack, still brandishing his weapon, reached the entrance and was out in the open before any one dared to stop him.
There he flung the great glowing thing in the direction of his assailants, who even now were rallying to the attack.
But the moment had been precious to Bathurst, and Jack o' Lantern was a king among horses. Without use of stirrup or rein, Jack, like the true child of the wild Moor that he was, flung himself upon the beautiful creature's back.