“Let go that bridle, ye whelp!” blustered Evatt, throwing back the flap of his holster and pulling out a heavy horse pistol.
As he made the motion, the bondsman dropped the rein and seized the hand that held the weapon. For a moment there was a sharp struggle, in which the third man, who sprang from the shadow, joined. Nor did Evatt cease resistance until three men more came running up, when, overborne by numbers, he was dragged from his horse and held to the ground. In the whole contest both sides had maintained an almost absolute silence, as if each had reasons for not waking the villagers.
“Stuff a sod of grass in his mouth to keep him quiet,” ordered Charles, panting, “and tie him hand and foot.” Taking a lantern from one of the men, he walked back to the speechless and frightened girl and held the light to her face. “’T is not possible you—you—oh! I’ll never believe it of you.”
With pride and mortification struggling for mastery, Janice replied: “What you think matters not to me.”
“You were eloping with this man?”
Though the groom’s thoughts were of no moment to the girl, she replied: “To escape marrying Philemon Hennion.”
“What things women are!” he exclaimed contemptuously. “You deserve no better than to be his doll common, but—”
“We were to be married,” cried Janice.
”In the reign of Queen Dick!”
“This very day on the ‘Asia’ frigate.”