"Shoot 'em!"
"Lash the noddy peaks!"
"Pinch their thropples!"
"Quoit 'em down!"
"Haick! haick!"
By this time Harry was on the wall, by favour of Sherebiah's strong arm. A slug whizzed past his head and sank with a thud into the trunk of a tree just behind; next moment the horse-pistol from which it had been discharged followed the shot, the butt grazing Harry's brow. There was no time to take in the details of the scene. Harry made a spring for the masked horseman who had fired at him, two yards from the wall; but the fellow, alarmed by the various shouts and the sudden appearance of Sherebiah at Harry's side, dug the spurs into his steed's flanks and galloped off down the road, over the bridge, and out of sight. One of his companions lay motionless on the road; the others had ridden away at the first alarm from the wall.
Harry mopped his brow and looked about him. Lord Godolphin stood upright in the carriage, his lips grimly set, a smoking pistol in his hand. His son was on foot with drawn sword; a postilion was crawling out of the ditch all bemired, pale and trembling.
"Odzooks!" cried my lord, "a welcome diversion!"
Harry makes a Diversion