It could scarcely have continued more than a minute, however, when the stentorian voices of Will Sykes and Ned Adams were heard, calling for “quiet,” accompanied by the cracks of a heavy thong.
“Thanks be to the saints!” exclaimed Trimbush, “assistance is at hand.”
Immediately afterwards both entered the court, and the huntsman glancing round, said reproachfully, “What’s all this about, eh?”
At this juncture, Mark the feeder made his appearance, and his eye instantly fell upon Gameboy. I never shall forget the old man’s countenance, the moment he saw the hound. A ghastly paleness came over it, and he looked almost stunned with the sight.
“Great heaven!” ejaculated he, holding up both his hands. “Great heaven, Will, there’s madness among ’em!”
“What!” said the huntsman, his question sounding like a sharp expression of pain.
“Madness,” repeated Mark, “as sure as we live.”
With staring eyes, the huntsman and second whip examined Gameboy at a short distance and, after a slight pause, the former exclaimed, “’Tis true! Run, Ned, and bring the Squire.”
“Get in, get in,” hallooed Mark, and closing the lodging-room door, we were safe from the attacks of the wretched Gameboy, who was now left alone in the court.
“Take care,” said Will, retreating towards the door, “he’s in a most rabid state.”