“That’s a bad job,” said Uncle Dick. “Well, never mind; we want to go round the works.”
“Nay, yow wean’t come in here.”
He was in the act of banging the gate, but Uncle Dick placed one of his great brown hands against it and thrust it open, driving the man back, but only for a moment, for he flew at my uncle, caught him by the arm and waist, thrust forward a leg, and tried to throw him out by a clever wrestling trick.
But Uncle Dick was too quick for him. Wrenching himself on one side he threw his left arm over the fellow’s neck, as he bent down, the right arm under his leg, and whirled him up perfectly helpless, but kicking with all his might.
“Come inside and shut that gate,” said Uncle Dick, panting with his exertion. “Now look here, my fine fellow, it would serve you right if I dropped you into that dam to cool you down. But there, get on your legs,” he cried contemptuously, “and learn to be civil to strangers when they come.”
The scuffle and noise brought about a dozen workmen out of the place, each in wooden clogs, with a rough wet apron about him, and his sleeves rolled up nearly to the shoulder.
They came forward, looking very fierce and as if they were going to attack us, headed by the fellow with the squint, who was no sooner at liberty than he snatched up a rough piece of iron bar and rolled up his right sleeve ready for a fresh attack.
“Give me that stick, Cob,” said Uncle Dick quickly; and I handed him the light Malacca cane I carried.
He had just seized it when the man raised the iron bar, and I felt sick as I saw the blow that was aimed at my uncle’s head.
I need not have felt troubled though, for, big as he was, he jumped aside, avoided the bar with the greatest ease, and almost at the same moment there was a whizz and a cut like lightning delivered by Uncle Dick with my light cane.