He gave himself a shake like a dog as soon as he was on dry land, and stood for a moment or two growling and using ugly language that seemed to agree with his mouth.
Then he turned upon us.
“Aw right!” he said, “I’ll pay thee for this. Set the dawg on me, you did, and then pitched me into the watter. Aw reight! I’ll pay thee for this.”
“Open the gate, Bob,” said Uncle Jack, who now took the fellow by the collar and thrust him forward while I held the light as the man went on threatening and telling us what he meant to do.
But the cold water had pretty well quenched his fierce anger, and though he threatened a great deal he did not attempt to do anything till he was by the gate, where a buzz of voices outside seemed to inspirit him.
“Hey, lads!” he cried, “in wi’ you when gate’s opened.”
“Take care,” whispered Uncle Dick. “Be ready to bang the gate. We must have him out. Here, Piter.”
The dog answered with a bark, and then our invader being held ready the gate was opened by me, and the three brothers thrust the prisoner they were going to set at liberty half-way out.
Only half-way, for he was driven back by a rush of his companions, who had been aroused by his shouting.
The stronger outside party would have prevailed no doubt had not our four-footed companion made a savage charge among the rough legs, with such effect that there was a series of yells from the front men, who became at once on our side to the extent of driving their friends back; and before they could recover from the surprise consequent upon the dog’s assault, the gate was banged to and locked.