"Then I tell you what we'll do. I'll fling the door open; you fire at their legs; then we'll all three charge 'em. We've only half a dozen to deal with; the men at the back will stop work when they hear the row. They'll come rushing round. Be ready to get back and haul the dog off. I'll keep my pistols in reserve; the less firing the better; we don't want all Luscombe here. Lend me a muffler, quick!"
He pulled the brim of his hat down over his face, turned up the collar of his cloak, and wrapped the muffler Gumley gave him closely round his chin. All the time the men were hammering at the door, and Comely was moving restlessly about, uttering deep growls.
"Standby, Gumley!"
Jack quickly slipped the bolts, threw the door open, and dodged back. There was a blinding flash, a roar, and yells of pain and rage from the smugglers, who, crouching in the porch around their battering-ram, received the crammed charge of the blunderbuss about their legs. They dropped the timber, and gave back a little. Before they had recovered from their surprise, the bulldog, snarling with fury, was among them, and behind him came Jack and Gumley, who laid about them doughtily with cutlass and dirk—using, however, the flat, for neither wished to do any serious hurt unless they were hard-pressed.
Amazement was now turned to confusion and fright. The intruders had no thought but to hobble out of the way of these furious combatants. But as they pushed one another toward the garden they were met by their comrades from the rear, whom the shout and the cries had interrupted, as Jack expected. Their arrival only doubled the confusion. Amid the babel of shouts they could hear nothing of what had happened. Some of the men were still yelling under the blows of the dirk and cutlass; and when one howled "Ho! Hi! Help! The dog's got me!" they were seized with uncontrollable panic; and with one consent bolted down the garden and scrambled over the fence, with no small damage to their nether garments from the nails, never pausing until they perceived that no pursuit was attempted.
One man, however, was left on the field. In the entrance to the porch lay a big fellow groaning. Comely held him fast by the leg. Gumley hastened to him and tried to release him from the dog's teeth, but, finding that impossible, he dragged dog and man bodily into the cottage, slammed the door, and bolted it. Jack was already inside.
"Let go, Comely, old boy," said his master, stooping to release the man, who, half dead with fright, lay groaning where Gumley had dropped him. "Why, what are ye bellowing like a sea-serpent for?" he added. "His teeth never went further than your leggings! Who be ye for a chicken-hearted—why, dash my buttons, 'tis Bill Gudgeon! Oh, Billy, what a' example to set your good feyther! Oh, my goodness, won't he be took bad with the flutters when he hears this! Ahoy, Mr.——! Avast there, Joe Gumley, blowed if you wasn't just a-going to put your foot in it. Billy, my son, you come along o' me."
He hauled the trembling youth into the kitchen, and pushed him into a chair, where he sat immovable, in mortal terror of the bulldog, which stood by, fixing him with his thirsty eyes.
Meanwhile Jack had gone to the upper window to see what had become of the enemy. They were out of sight, but when he opened the window he guessed by their voices that they were in conference just beyond the fence.
"Ay, and more'n Gumley!"