With Marlborough to Malplaquet | Page 8

the scoundrels turn
their attention to the windlasses and the gear."
So his men had to grind their teeth in rage and look on helplessly.
As was expected, the rioters presently came back to the big shed, one of
them, evidently the leader, advancing with a felling-axe.
"Keep back, rascal!" shouted George. "Keep from the door, or I'll put a
few peppercorns into your hide."
From a chink in the door George recognized him as the very man he

had so unceremoniously knocked from his perch and so merrily
battered in the bout of singlestick that day on the landing-stage.
The fellow answered with a curse and lifted his axe to stave in the door.
Before the weapon could descend a report rang out in the twilight, and
with a scream the attacker sprang from the ground, and then fell to
rubbing his legs vigorously.
"One on 'em peppered," remarked old Saunders grimly.
The crowd outside fell back in haste, and a burly fellow at that instant
appearing on the scene with a small cask of ale on his shoulder, a
diversion was caused. The fight was transferred to the circle round the
ale barrel, the already half-crazy fellows struggling desperately to get at
the liquor.
"By Jupiter!" cried George, seeing his opportunity in a moment, "now
is our chance! Let them get fully occupied and we have them. Let them
once return and they will be madder and more reckless than ever."
And seizing every man his weapon, the little party in the shed prepared
to sally forth, old Saunders whispering to his next neighbour, "The lad
is a game 'un, if ever I saw one."
Just as George was preparing to draw the bolts he caught sight of
young Blackett. His old schoolfellow was haranguing the men,
gesticulating violently, and pointing excitedly towards the large shed.
Matthew had in reality just heard of the fray, and had at once run up to
do what he could to stop it. But George Fairburn did not know this.
"The knave!" he exclaimed, beside himself with anger, "he's the very
ringleader of the party! He's kept himself till now in the background.
But he shall pay for his pains!"
Flinging back the bars, George dashed forth upon the ale-drinking
group his little band following at his heels. With a shout they swooped
down upon the foe, and in an instant a score of heads were broken, the
luckless owners flung in all directions around the cask. One of the
prostrate ones held the spigot in his hand, and the remainder of the

liquor bubbled itself merrily to the ground.
So utterly unprepared were the fellows for the onset, and so mauled
were they in the very first rush, that a general alarm was raised. In the
darkening they imagined themselves surrounded by a strong
reinforcement of the Fairburn party, and at once there was a wild
stampede from the premises. Men and hobbledehoys stumbled off in
hot haste, pursued by the victorious handful under George.
Not that George himself gave any heed to all this. At the very first he
had dashed to the spot where Matthew Blackett was excitedly shouting
to the rioters.
"Coward!" cried Fairburn, "to set on your scoundrelly fellows--"
"Set on the fellows!" Matthew began in amazement, but he got no
farther.
"Up with your fists!" cried George, "and we will see which is the better
man!"
There was no time for explanations, though young Blackett opened his
mouth to speak. He had in truth but time to throw up his hands to ward
off George's vigorous blow, and the next moment the fight was in full
swing. Matthew was no coward, and once in for warm work, he played
his part manfully. At it the two boys went, each hitting hard, and both
coming in for a considerable share of pummelling. For a time none
heeded them, every man having enough to do in other quarters. But at
length they were surrounded by a small group of the Fairburn men who
had now driven off the enemy and remained masters of the field.
Once or twice, when the two stopped a moment to recover breath,
Matthew opened his mouth again to make an explanation, but as often
his pride held him back, and he said nothing. So the fight went on.
How long this fierce duel might have lasted it is hard to say. But just as
the boys were almost at the end of their strength there was an effective
interruption. It was time, for both combatants were heavily punished.

They had not been so ill-matched as one might at first sight have
suspected. George was the stronger and harder fellow, but Matthew had
the advantage in the matter of height, and more particularly in length of
arm,