n with great shouts of
triumph.

From the bedroom windows men were holding muskets, ready to fire, but
evidently unwilling to do so except as a last resource. George spied
his old friend Matthew at one window; at another, astonishing sight!
stood no other than Fieldsend! His own father was at a third.

At that moment the fellow below raised his blunderbuss and took
deliberate aim at the old Squire, who, all unconscious of his danger,
was endeavouring to address the mob from an upper window. The sight
seemed to grip George by the throat.

George carried a handspike, a weapon he had brought along from the
collier vessel. A dozen rapid and noiseless strides over the grass
brought him within striking distance, and instantly, with a downward
stroke like a lightning flash, he had felled to earth man and
blunderbuss. The report came as the man dropped, and with a yell one
of the rioters climbing through a lower window dropped back to the
ground, shot through the thigh by one of his own party.

"Saved!" the lieutenant shouted, a glance showing him that the old
Squire was still unhurt. All eyes, those of the defenders no less than
those of the attacking party, were immediately attracted to the
new-comer, who was just in the act of seizing the blunderbuss from the
grasp of the prostrate and senseless pitman.

"George!" "Fairburn!" "My boy!" came the cries from the upper windows,
and the defenders cheered for pure joy.

The mob, startled for a moment, prepared to retaliate, a hasty
whispering taking place between two or three of the leaders. "Look out
for the rush!" cried Matthew, warningly. George, with a bound, gained
the wall, where, back against the stonework, he stood ready with the
handspike and the clubbed musket. So formidable an antagonist did he
seem to the men that they held back, till one of them, with a fierce
imprecation, dashed forward. In a trice he was felled to the ground, a
loud roar of rage escaping the man's comrades. An instant later and
the young lieutenant was fighting in the midst of a howling mob.

"Ah! Drat you!" came a bellow, and there rushed upon the rear of the
attackers the old skipper, cutlass in hand, followed close by the rest
of his little crew. This apparition, sudden and unexpected, upset the
nerves of the pitmen, and in a moment they began to run, falling away
from George and tumbling over each other in their haste.

"No you don't!" hissed the youngster between his firm-set teeth, an