“Call off your dogs,” he yelled. “Call off your dogs or I’ll strangle you.”
The patroon obeyed him like a child. It was all he could do to control his followers. It was a grand sight to see the old man plow fearlessly among them, and try to undo what he had done. He battled his way inch by inch to Meg’s side. Soon his influence began to tell. The tumult stilled apace. One by one the troopers slunk away. Before long we were all alone.
“Meg,” said the patroon with almost a touch of tenderness in his voice. “Meg, are you hurt?”
The prostrate woman raised herself upon her elbow. “And if ye dare to kiss my lips,” she sang, “sure of your bodie I will be.”
“For God’s sake,” cried the patroon. “Will she never have done with that?”
He threw up his arms and staggered backward towards the house. His daughter was there to meet him in the doorway. She put her arm about him and supported him away. He seemed to have gone suddenly senseless.
My first care was the old woman. She was unhurt, though overcome by the nervous shock. I carried her to a place of safety, the little dwarf following us like a faithful dog. When we had revived the old woman, he and I returned to bury Ronald Guy. All the other members of the band had disappeared as if they were afraid to remain on the scene of their lawless deed. We had closed the grave and were about to part, when Louis put out his hand.
“I shall not tell you what we have been doing to-night,” he said. “But I swear, before God, hereafter to be your good friend.”
With that he went back to old Meg, and I returned to my room.