Through the Fray | Page 8

feet again, awaited
the rising of his opponent. The latter made a movement to get up, and
then fell back with a cry.
"Thou hast beaten me," he said. "Oi think moi leg be broke."
Ned saw now that as the lad had fallen his leg had been twisted under
him, and that he was unable to extricate it. In a moment he was
kneeling before the prostrate lad.
"Oh! I am sorry," he exclaimed; "but you know I didn't mean to do it.

Here, Tompkins, don't sit there like a fool, but come and help me move
him and get his leg straight."
Although the boys did this as gently as they could, a groan showed how
great was the agony.
"Where is it?" Ned asked.
"Aboove the knee somewhere," the lad said, and Ned put his hand
gently to the spot, and to his horror could feel something like the end of
a bone.
"Oh! dear, what is to be done? Here, Tompkins, either you or I must go
on to the town for help."
"It's getting dark already," Tompkins said; "the sun has set some time.
How on earth is one to find the way?"
"Well, if you like I will go," Ned said, "and you stop here with him,"
The lad, who had been lying with closed eyes and a face of ghastly
pallor, now looked up.
"There be soom men not a quarter of a mile away; they be a-drilling,
they be, and oi was sot here to stop any one from cooming upon em;
but if so bee as thou wilt go and tell em oi has got hurt, oi don't suppose
as they will meddle with ye."
Ned saw now why the lad had opposed his going any further. Some of
the croppers were drilling on the moor, and the boy had been placed as
sentry. It wasn't a pleasant business to go up to men so engaged,
especially with the news that he had seriously injured the boy they had
placed on watch. But Ned did not hesitate a moment.
"You stop here, Tompkins, with him," he said quietly, "I will go and
fetch help. It is a risk, of course, but we can't let him lie here."
So saying, Ned mounted the rock to get a view over the moor. No
sooner had he gained the position than he saw some thirty or forty men
walking in groups across the moor at a distance of about half a mile.
They had evidently finished their drill, and were making their way to
their homes. This at least was satisfactory. He would no longer risk
their anger by disturbing them at their illegal practices, and had now
only to fear the wrath which would be excited when they heard what
had happened to the boy.
He started at a brisk run after them, and speedily came up to the last of
the party. They were for the most part men between twenty and thirty,
rough and strongly built, and armed with billhooks and heavy

bludgeons, two or three of them carrying guns.
One of them looked round on hearing footsteps approaching, and gave
a sudden exclamation. The rest turned, and on seeing Ned, halted with a
look of savage and menacing anger on their faces.
"Who be'est, boy? dang ee, what brings ye here?"
Ned gulped down the emotion of fear excited by their threatening
appearance, and replied as calmly as he could: "I am sorry to say that I
have had a struggle with a boy over by that rock yonder. We fell
together, and he has broken his leg. He told me if I came over in this
direction I should find some one to help him."
"Broaken Bill's leg, did'st say, ye young varmint?" one of the men
exclaimed. "Oi've a good moinde to wring yer neck."
"I am very sorry," Ned said; "but I did not mean it. I and another boy
were walking back to Marsden from fishing, and he wouldn't let us pass;
it was too far to go back again, so of course we had to try, and then
there was a fight, but it was quite an accident his breaking his leg."
"Did'st see nowt afore ye had the voight?" one of the other men
inquired.
"No," Ned replied; "we saw no one from the time we left the stream till
we met the boy who would not let us pass, and I only caught sight of
you walking this way from the top of the rock."
"If 'twere a vair voight, John, the boy bain't to be blamed, though oi be
main grieved about thy brother Bill; but we'd best go back for him,
voor on us. And moind, youngster, thee'd best keep a quiet tongue