'He is one of the rioters! He is a leader! A Runham of Crumbland, with a tail of dirty scoundrels after him, burning, pillaging, and getting drunk.'
'I beseech you,' said Mark—'I entreat you to listen to reason. The men are, as you say, drunk—drunk with folly. I am no leader.'
'You are acting for them.'
'I am an intermediary. They have spared me. They came to Crumbland, but we humoured them, brought out cake and ale, and they went their way without molestation. Gaultrip resisted, and they set fire to a stack, and so frightened him that he yielded, and paid fifteen pounds. Now he is engaged in saving his other stacks. Do not provoke these fellows further.'
'I will not listen to you. You ought to be ashamed to take the part of these scurvy ragamuffins.'
'I am not taking their part, but yours. Hark!'
There was a cry from the yard of, 'Drownlands! Tiger Ki! We will break in the house door unless you give us money.'
Then a brick was thrown. It crashed through the double panes of the window with raised sash, and fell in the room, accompanied by a shower of glass splinters.
'I will shoot one of them!' exclaimed the yeoman, and he ran with his gun to the window.
Mark had just time to strike up the barrel, and the contents were discharged in the air, hurting nobody.