As they were turning the corner of a narrow street, their attention was suddenly excited by a sharp cry of blended surprise and fright.
“What is it, Jack?” asked Harry, grasping his companion by the arm.
He did not need to await a reply, for by the indistinct light he saw two men struggling a short distance farther on. One appeared to be an old man, with white hair, the other was a man of middle age. Clearly it was a case of attempted robbery.
“Run, Jack, run!” said Harry, in excitement. “Let us help the old man!”
“I’m with you,” answered the young sailor briefly.
Harry had in his hand a heavy walking-stick—his only weapon—but he did not stop to consider the personal risk he was running. As he drew near, the old man, whose feeble strength was quite unequal to a conflict with a man so much younger, swayed and fell backward. His assailant bent over him, and despite his feeble resistance began to search his pockets, at the same time indulging in savage threats. The old man gave himself up for lost, but help was nearer than he anticipated.
So occupied was the villain with his disgraceful work that he did not hear the approaching footsteps.
His first intimation of them came in a sounding blow over his shoulders, given by Harry’s stick, which was laid on with a good will.
He jumped to his feet with an oath, and darted a rapid glance at his two assailants. Then, much to the surprise of Harry, he turned and ran rapidly away. It was a piece of great good luck, Harry thought, for he was not at all sure that he and Jack combined would have been a match for the highwayman.
“Are you hurt, sir?” asked Harry, bending over the old man.