“What, you think that I’d go up that ladder alone and fight the two of ’em? Not much! Why, the man alone is a terror—and the woman, God help us! she’d scratch my eyes out afore the rest and you could come up.”
“Hey, you, up thar, you old reprobate, we are on to you, don’t yer see? Now come down peaceable or it’ll go hard with you.”
They waited for an answer, but not a word did I say. I hastily had put on my dress, and stood with a little hickory-bottomed chair in my hands near the opening in the floor through which I had pulled the ladder.
“Hain’t you goin’ to answer? Well, all right, don’t then! We’ll jist make a bonfire on this yer floor and see if it singes yer manes.”
Some one of the rabble outside here fired a revolver several times, but I rightly guessed this was only to frighten. I still stood firm. Perhaps I was frightened, but if so it did not affect my strength, for I was waiting for a head to appear at the opening, and I did not have to wait long, for soon there was a whispered consultation below. I heard a hoarse whisper say, “No, you go”—“Well then, Jake, you try it,”—“Hell, who’s afraid! Here, you, give me a lift,” and a hand grasped the edge of the floor.
I stepped back, gripped the chair and swung it aloft, and through the floor by the glare of the torches I saw the face of Bilkson, the junior. That chair was well on its errand before I caught sight of the countenance; but no matter, I would not have stayed it if I could. Crash—down went the man. I heard him fall like a dead weight, just as I have seen a bale of hay tumbled out of a barn door.
“I’m shot! I’m shot! Run for a doctor, boys. I’m dying! A minister. Oh, Judas! I’m shot through the brain,” I heard him scream.
“Shet up, ye dam fool! Yer haven’t any brains to shoot. Nobody’s shot. They hit you wid a club—’ats all. Yer haven’t been hurt. Yes, by George! yer smeller is broken, and yer had better spit out them teeth afore yer swallers ’em. Gawd help him, boys, I’se glad it ain’t me. He’s got a bad swipe. Well, it’s his bizness anyway, not ours. We jest come ter see the funf an’ lend a hand if we was needed.”
Here I heard a voice coming from a little distance. “We got him! We got him!” There was a sudden stampede below for the outside, and looking out of the window I saw by the glare of the torches (the moon had gone down and it was now quite dark), five or six of the ruffians holding The Man. He offered no resistance, but two had seized either arm, and two had hold of his collar from behind, and they were leading him toward the house.
“We’ve got him! We’ve got him!” they shouted. “Now wasn’t he sharp? Heard us a-coming, got out of the window, and carried the cot down under a tree and pretended to be asleep. Oh yer can’t fool us, old man—we’re on to you.”