“Who’d have thought of that?” cried Mark wildly. “Shall we turn and attack the others as they come on?”
“No,” said Ralph, recovering his coolness; “let’s trot on now. It’s madness to try it again.”
“Well, I suppose it would be pushing it too far. They can’t say we’re cowards if we retreat now.”
“No; but we can say they are,” cried Ralph. “Why, what a set of curs, to be beaten by us.”
“Yes, and they can’t fight a bit. I could parry their thrusts with a stick. But here; I can’t lose my pony. Where is he?”
“And I can’t lose my rod and creel,” cried Ralph. “There’s your pony yonder ahead.”
“And your fish are right back there. I’ll come with you to fetch them.”
“No, no; let them have ’em. We must retreat now. Two, four, six, eight-nine of them now; and I don’t think those fellows who are down are much hurt. Come along.”
For Captain Purlrose was now descending the slope, and his men were approaching menacingly, spurred on by a shower of oaths, threats, and abuse from their leader.
“Well, I suppose we must; but my blood’s up now,” said Mark, “and I hate running from such a set of curs.”