Two men obeyed, but they did not give the jerk—Bart did that. Drawing in his legs like a grasshopper about to leap, he suddenly shot them out straight, when, though they did not alter his position where he was nipped in across the hips by the window-frame, they acted like catapults upon the two constables, who were driven backwards, the one into a chair, the other into a sitting position on the floor, to the great delight of those who looked on.
“Four of you,” said the head constable stolidly; “and hold on this time.”
The men obeyed, two going to each leg; and though Bart gave three or four vigorous kicks, his captors were not dislodged.
“Now,” said the head constable, as the kicking legs became quiescent, “all together!”
There was a sharp jerk, and Bart’s body was snatched out of the imprisoning frame so suddenly that five men went down on the floor together; while the first to rise was Bart, who kicked himself free, made for the door in spite of a pistol levelled by the head constable, and passed through.
“Come on, Abel!” he shouted as he went.
Abel made a dash to follow, but he only struck his face against the muzzle of a pistol, and the head constable held on.
There was a rush after Bart, but it was needless, for the great stolid fellow had seen the state of affairs, and come back.
“All right, Abel, lad,” he growled; “I won’t leave you in the lurch. What’s it mean—lock-up!”
“Yes, my lad; charge of attempted murder and robbery,” said the head constable.