There was only a latch to secure it, but I pulled a thin
knife from my pocket, and just as I received a blow in the face from
the first arrival which knocked me backwards, I had jammed it over the
latch through the iron staple in which it worked. Before the first
attempt to open it had been followed by the discovery of the obstacle,
I was up, and the next moment, with a well-directed kick, disabled a
few of the fingers which were fumbling to remove it. To protect the
latch was now my main object, but my efforts would have been quite
useless, for twenty of them would have been over the top in an
instant. Help, however, although unrecognized as such, was making its
way through the ranks of the enemy.
They parted asunder, and Scroggie, still lame, strode heavily up to
the gate. Recalling nothing but his old enmity, I turned once more and
implored Davie. "Do run, Davie, dear! it's all up," I said; but my
entreaties were lost upon Davie. Turning again in despair, I saw the
lame leg being hoisted over the gate. A shudder ran through me: I
could _not_ kick that leg; but I sprang up and hit Scroggie hard in
the face. I might as well have hit a block of granite. He swore at me,
caught hold of my hand, and turning to the assailants said:
"Now, you be off! This is my little business. I'll do for him!"
Although they were far enough from obeying his orders, they were not
willing to turn him into an enemy, and so hung back expectant.
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