“They’re coming on again, sir. He’s rallied ’em,” growled Ben; “but we shall be ready for ’em when they come.”
Meanwhile, the sound of splashing and swimming came up from the moat, accompanied by a good many spluttering and choking noises, and now heads were dimly made out approaching the bank of the moat below.
“How many are there of you across?” said Roy.
“Eight of us, sir,” came up in a panting voice; “we’re going back for the other two.”
“Who are—how many?”
“Four on us, sir,” said one man; “they’re hiding in the reeds. Can’t swim.”
“Can you bring them across?”
“Yes, sir. We did bring three as couldn’t take a stroke, and they’re down here half drowned.”
“That’s a loy,” said a gruff voice; “I aren’t: on’y full o’ water.”
The men lowered themselves into the moat again, and began to swim back, but just as they were nearly across, there came the thudding sound of horses passing along at a trot, and a rush of men towards the edge of the moat.