The very next moment, with every nerve tingling, he was running toward where he could see his two enemies kneeling upon someone they had got down; and, though he could not see the face, he knew it was Distin whom they were both thumping with all their might.
“Now will you?” he heard, as he rushed forward toward the group, all of whose constituents were so much excited by their struggle that they did not hear his approach.
“No,” shouted Vane, throwing himself upon them, but not so cleverly as he had meant, for his toe caught in a protruding root, and he pitched forward more like a skittle-ball than a boy, knocking over the two gipsy lads, and himself rolling over amongst the beech-mast and dead leaves.
Distin’s two assailants were so startled and astonished that they, too, rolled over and over hurriedly several times before they scrambled to their feet, and dived in among the trees.
But Vane was up, too, on the instant.
“Here, Dis!” he shouted; “help me take them.”
Distin had risen, too, very pale everywhere in the face but about the nose, which was very ruddy, for reasons connected with a blow, but, as Vane ran on, he did not follow.
“Do you hear? Come on!” cried Vane, looking back. “Help me, and we can take them both.”
But Distin only glanced round for a way of retreat, and, seeing that Vane was alone, the two gipsy lads dodged behind a tree, and cleverly kept it between them as he rushed on, and then sprang out at him, taking him in the rear, and getting a couple of blows home as he turned to defend himself.
“History repeats itself,” he muttered, through his set teeth; “but they haven’t got any sticks;” and, determined now to make a prisoner of one of them, he attacked fiercely, bringing to bear all the strength and skill he possessed, for there was no sign of shrinking on the part of the two lads, who came at him savagely, as if enraged at his robbing them of their prey.