But he gave me an oath and stepped out of the vehicle, at which I seized the young man, Harringay.
"Out with you," said I, "and we will see this mischief to an end."
We got out into the snow, which was still whirling in the air, and I watched the coachman extricate one of his nags. The tobyman (if I may so style him) stood with his legs apart, drawn up in his most dramatic posture, pistols in hand.
"You will not stir," says he, "for full ten minutes after I am gone. If you do, I will come back and blow your brains out."
This truculent fellow quite appalled the coachman, who busied himself with the gear, and presently has one of his horses out. This t'other mounted in an awkward fashion, and turned to us.
"Remember," says he in a warning voice, "I never forget or forgive."
"Now," whispered I to Harringay, "now is the chance to show your quality. You take him on the near side and I will on the off. Leg or arm will do. He will topple off on the least shove, the fool."
"But—but," he stammered, "he is armed."
"Damme," said I, furious to meet such cowardice, "are ye frightened of a pistol in the hands of a mumchance?" And with an oath I left him and flew at my quarry.
I had got half-way to him when he saw me coming and pointed a barker at me.