For answer the man swung round fiercely, bringing his right arm across Gwyn’s chest and sending him staggering back for a yard or two.
“Come on, Gwyn, let’s fetch the Colonel.”
Gwyn’s blood was up. He felt not the slightest inclination to run for help, but, big as the man was, he sprang forward with such energy that, in his surprise, the fellow gave way for the moment, and Gwyn seized the opportunity to make a snatch at the great reel he held, wrenched it from his hand, and threw it to Joe, who caught it as cleverly as if it had been a cricket ball.
“Run round the other side, Joe, and drag it out. Run off with it. Never mind me.”
Joe obeyed on the instant, and, making for the other side, he dashed off up the side of the gully, dragging the line after him, and was some yards away before the man recovered from his surprise.
“Oh, that’s your game, is it?” he cried savagely. “I’ll ’tend to you directly, my lad,” and he made to pass Gwyn, who tried to stop him, but received a thrust which sent him backward on the heath, while the man started to follow Joe.
But Gwyn’s life on the rocky coast had made him as active as a cat, and as the fellow was passing he thrust out one leg, tripped him, and his adversary went down with a crash, while, before he could rise, Gwyn was upon him trying to hold him down.
The boy was strong for his years, and, gripping his adversary by the collar with both hands, he drove his knees into the man’s ribs, and held on. For some moments the advantage of position was on his side, but it was like trying to ride a mad bull. For the man heaved and twisted, and Gwyn had hard work to maintain his place as long as he did. This was till the man gave a tremendous writhe, sending his rider over sidewise, and then dashing after Joe, who was running as hard as he could go, trailing the line after him.
Joe had a good start, and the advantage of being light and accustomed to make his way among the heath and stones; but he soon found that the weight at the end of the line kept on catching in the rough growth; and as he tore on, he saw that the fierce-looking fellow was in full pursuit. If he had dropped the line, he could easily have got away, but Gwyn had thrown that reel to him, and told him to run with it; and setting his teeth he ran on, jerking the weight free again and again, till all at once in one of the bounds it made after a heavy drag, it struck against a small post-like piece of granite which stuck up out of the ground, swung round and clasped it, as the bolas of a South-American
