"I can't," said Lucy, white with fear; "it's for father's supper. I can't give it to you."
"It's for my supper, I tell you," said the ringleader of the band, "and I mean to have it, so hand it over."
He put out his hand to seize the jug; Lucy jerked it back suddenly, with the result that half the contents went over her frock and apron.
"There, there, there! You'd better have given it to us!" they cried, closing round her. "We means to have it."
The poor child in her helplessness began to cry aloud. The sound brought "Gentleman Gus" to the rescue. He knew Lucy; she had spoken kindly to him once or twice; but had she been unknown to him, he would have gone to her assistance just the same. He had so far the instincts of a gentleman that it would have been impossible for him to stand by and see a girl ill-treated without attempting to strike a blow in her defence.
Undaunted by the number and strength of the boys, Gus threw himself into their midst. Seizing the stretched out for the beer, he inflicted such a vicious pinch on it, that it was drawn back with a yell of pain. Then he dashed upon the assailants, kicking out right and left with all his might. They recoiled a little in their surprise, and he shouted to Lucy to run away. But running was impossible for her, and whilst one boy dealt Gus a blow that made his nose bleed, and another assisted in "polishing him off," the rest closed around Lucy again. But only for a moment.
A stinging blow on the head sent the foremost boy staggering backwards, whilst a voice in low, but most impressive accents exclaimed, "You young blackguard! I'll teach you to touch my girl again!"
It was Lucas, who, unperceived, had entered the lane in time to see his daughter's distress and Gus' gallant rush to her aid.
"Oh, father!" Lucy cried. "Don't let them hurt Gus; he was so good, so brave."
But Lucas needed no such admonition.