"Look out, Smith! look out!" he called. "I'll chuck you my kukri; get on and job them; I'll keep the others back--a bit."
As he spoke, a glittering curve sped from his hand to the other man's feet.
Then he pulled up and faced the crowd behind with his clubbed revolver.
The lane was very narrow. Three men could barely breast it shoulder to shoulder. Surely one could bar it by swift blows and slow retreat! For a time, at any rate--time for the opening and shutting of a door! He could but try.
"Oh! what is he going to do?" gasped the woman who was watching.
"I appose he's going to be brave, mum," said the child, who clutched at her hand, watching, too, with great, wide, uncomprehending eyes.
But the man beside them held his breath.
So retreating, step by step, Vincent Dering kept the crowd back, lured the crowd on, safe--so far! For these, the first, the swiftest, were naturally the unironed, therefore, the unarmed. But there were others, forcing their way to the front, who would be harder to deal with.
Vincent threw his head back and wondered how Eugene was faring; for he dared not turn his face from his task even for a second.
Had those three been caught up? Had the kukri helped?