The burly young man, finding himself thus the centre of observation, snatched the proffered stick, squared his shoulders and approached Sir John in very ferocious and determined manner, but halted, just out of reach, to spit upon his palm and take fresh hold upon his bludgeon; whereupon the crowd encouraged him on this wise:
“Knock ’is little wig off, Tom!”
“Poke ’is eye out, lad!”
“Aim at ’is nob!”
“Go fur ’is legs!”
Suddenly the burly young man sprang, aiming a terrific blow, but, instead of attempting a parry, Sir John leapt nimbly aside, and the young man, impelled by the force of his stroke, once more stumbled and fell; and then before he could rise, old Penelope commenced to belabour him with her long staff as he lay, panting out maledictions with every blow until the crowd, laughing, shouting, cursing, surged forward to the rescue. Drawing the fierce and breathless old creature behind him, Sir John, seeing escape impossible, faced the oncoming menace strung and quivering for desperate action, while the crowd lashed itself to fury by such cries as:
“Down wi’ the young cock!”
“Scrag the owd witch, lads: to the watter wi’ ’er!”
“Aye, to the river with ’em—both of ’em!” cried Mr. Sturton, loudest of all.