"Stop!" cries he.
"Stop be damned!" says I, and sprang at him.
The pistol went off and took my hat, singeing my forehead, which made me all the hotter. I seized him leg and neck, and swung him down into the snow, where he grabbled for another weapon.
"If you move," said I, "I will crack your neck like a rotten stick, my brave tobyman. Quit, you worm, quit!" And I gave him my fist between the eyes, so that he lay still.
"Coachman," said I, "you may take your horse and throw a lantern here." And I fumbled in the man's pockets for a pistol. "Now," said I, "we are on terms again." And I dragged him to his feet. Harringay came up now, and says he,—
"Let me help."
"Get you gone! I want none of you!" I said sharply. "Damme, miss will serve me better. She will wear the breeches properly." And I called out to her.
By that time the coachman had his lantern, and cast the light on the miserable sheepish object who scowled at us.
"Here's a pretty tobyman," said I, "a right gallant fellow that sheds lustre on the craft. Why, a child could manage him. See," says I, for miss was come up, looking very handsome and excited, in the snow. "Take ye this pistol, miss, and hold it to him. He will do you no harm—no more than a louse, and never could."
She hesitated a moment, and then, summoning up her courage, did as I bid, holding the barker in a gingerly fashion, the while I searched his pockets, taking out what he had took of us.