“At him!” hissed Jack, and they flung themselves upon him.
“To the stake!” snarled one.
“What stake?” asked another.
“Mistake,” chuckled Ready, to himself.
Then he plunged into the thickest of it, yelling for them to give the wretch some of his own medicine.
“Hold on!” cried Bingham. “What are you going to do? Hold on!”
“Don’t be afraid,” said Jack. “We won’t let go of you. There is no reason why you should worry about that.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Bingham again.
“Give you your just deserts, base-born wretch!” cried Ready. “Didst think to escape retribution?”