"Get back, ye gossoons! Down, ye haythen! Take thot, ye bloody pirates!"
The strip of heavy wood in Barney's hands whirled through the air, and came down with a resounding crack on the head of the leader.
The fellows had not learned caution by the fate of the first man to climb the stairs, and they were following their second leader as close as possible.
Barney had a strong arm, and he struck the fellow with all his power. Well it was for the ruffian that the heavy wood was not very thick, else he would have had a broken head.
Back he toppled upon the one behind, and that one made a vain attempt to support him. The dead weight was too much, and the second fell, again sweeping the whole lot to the foot of the stairs.
"Hurro!" shouted the Irish boy, in wild delight. "This is th' koind av a picnic pwhat Oi admire! Come on, ye nagurs! It's Barney Mulloy ye're runnin' up against, an' begobs! he's good fer th' whole crowd av yez!"
At the foot of the stairs there was a writhing, wrangling, snarling mass of human beings; at the head of the stairs was a young Irishman who laughed and crowed and flourished the cudgel of wood in his hands.
Barney, feeling his blood leaping joyously in his veins, felt like singing, and so he began to warble a "fighting song," over and over inviting his enemies to come on.
In the meantime Frank had made an opening large enough to force his body through.
"Come on, Barney!" he cried, attracting the other boy's attention by a sharp blow.