“Well, it’s not made o’ cast iron, but it’s pretty tough.”
“Stand clear, then, an’ I’ll burst it in wi’ my foot,” said Stalker.
“Och! is it smashin’ yer bones you’ll be after! Howld fast. Are ye a big man?”
“Yes, pretty big.”
“That’s a good job, for a little un would only bust hisself agin it for no use. You’ll have to go at it like a hoy-draulic ram.”
“Never fear. There’s not many doors in these diggin’s that can remain shut when I want ’em open,” said the robber, as he retired a few paces to enable him to deliver his blow with greater momentum.
“Howld on a minit, me frind,” said Paddy, who had quietly turned the key and laid hold of the handle; “let me git well out o’ the way, and give me warnin’ before you come.”
“All right. Now then, look out!” cried Stalker.
Those inside heard the rapid little run that a man takes before launching himself violently against an object. Flinders flung the door wide open in the nick of time. The robber’s foot dashed into empty space, and the robber himself plunged headlong, with a tremendous crash, on the floor. At the same instant Flinders brought his billet of wood down with all his might on the spot where he guessed the man’s head to be. The blow was well aimed, and rendered the robber chief incapable of further action for the time being.
“Faix, ye’ll not ‘hoot’ to yer frinds this night, anyhow,” said Flinders, as they dragged the fallen chief to the doorway, to make sure, by the faint light, that he was helpless. “Now, thin,” continued Paddy, “we’ll away an’ lead the boys to battle. You go an’ muster them, sor, an’ I’ll take ye to the inimy.”