Only one of our assailants seemed to have the courage to persevere, and this proved to be our old friend. For as I directed the light along the top of the wall a pair of hands appeared accompanied by the usual scuffing.
Uncle Dick only tapped them, but possibly not hard enough, for the arms followed the hands, then appeared the head and fierce eyes of the man we had found asleep.
“Coom on, lads; we’ve got un now,” he shouted, and in another minute he would have been over; but Uncle Dick felt it was time for stronger measures than tapping hands, and he let his stick come down with such a sharp rap on the great coarse head that it disappeared directly, and a yelling chorus was succeeded by another shower of stones.
We went into shelter in the doorway, with Piter playing the part of sentry in front, the dog walking up and down looking at the top of the wall growling as he went, and now and then opening and shutting his teeth with a loud snap like a trap.
On the other side of the wall we could hear the talking of the men, quite a little crowd having apparently assembled, and being harangued by one of their party.
“So it makes you think of Canonbury, does it, Bob?” said Uncle Jack.
“Well, yes,” said my uncle.
“It makes me feel angry,” said Uncle Jack, “and as if the more these scoundrels are obstinate and interfere with me, the more determined I shall grow.”
“We must call in the help of the police,” said Uncle Dick.
“And they will be watched away,” said Uncle Jack. “No, we must depend upon ourselves, and I dare say we can win. What’s that?”