"The fun begins," whispered Neale, flattening his nose against the shutter in the effort to lose no glimpse of what was going forward.
"We must be ready to rush in if Ingle uses him too hard," announced Cornwaleys.
The two men watched with all their eyes, and this is what they saw:—
The giant, having the paper thrust in his face, grew red with rage and strove to rise and reach for his sword, but only succeeded in falling across the table, his hair trailing into the mug of ale. Then the nimble little sheriff, who was perhaps less drunk than he had feigned, whipped around the table and drawing a length of cord from his capacious jerkin succeeded in binding the wrists of his adversary before he could rise. Ingle roared out curses.
The landlord shouted from his bed to know what was the matter.
"Oh, 'tis naught. Give yourself no trouble in the matter. Captain Ingle has had overmuch drink even for him, and I am taking him home."
"There seems to be a break in our fine plan," murmured Neale. "What if Ellyson prove the better man of the two?"
"Rubbish! How can he?"
But a weak arm backed by a clear head can do more than mighty muscles befuddled with beer. Ellyson rapidly made fast his cord, and drawing out a stouter one tied that too, and tugging might and main pulled the captain off his stool headlong to the ground, where he lay for an instant grovelling, and then, gathering himself up, staggered a few paces to the door.
"Thank ye for that, my fine fellow!" said Ellyson. "I could scarce have got ye so far without your own help."