Part 3 (1/2)

Halfman mastered exasperation bravely, as, taking a pike from the hands of Thoroughgood, he strove to illuminate rusticity.

”Use your pike thus, noddy,” he lessoned, good-naturedly, wielding the weapon with the skill of a practised pikeman. But the ill.u.s.tration was as much lost upon Garlinge as the original command, and in his attempt to imitate it he whirled his arm so recklessly that his companions scattered in dismay, and Halfman himself was fain to move a step or two backward to avoid the yokel's meaningless sweeps.

”Have a care,” he cried. ”If you work so wild you will damage your company.”

Mrs. Satch.e.l.l, taking her post in the now restored line, shook her red fist at the delinquent.

”He had best not damage me,” she thundered, ”or I'll damage him to some purpose.”

”Silence in the ranks!” Halfman commanded, sharply. ”Charge your pikes,” he ordered.

This order was obeyed indifferently and tamely enough by all save the egregious Mrs. Satch.e.l.l, who delivered so l.u.s.ty a thrust with her weapon that Halfman was obliged to skip back briskly to avoid bringing his breast acquainted with her steel.

”Nay, woman, warily!” he shouted, half laughing, half angry. ”Play your play more tamely. I am no rascally Roundhead.”

Mrs. Satch.e.l.l grounded her weapon and wiped the sweat from her s.h.i.+ning forehead with the back of her red hand. There was a deadly earnest in her eyes, a deadly earnest in her speech.

”I cry you mercy,” she panted. ”But I am a whole-hearted woman, and when you bid me charge I am all for charging.”

Halfman did his best to m.u.f.fle amus.e.m.e.nt in a reproving frown. ”Limit your zeal discreetly,” he urged, and was again the drill sergeant.

”Shoulder your pikes.”

The weapons followed the words with some show of decorum.

”Comport your pikes.”

Again the evolution was carried out with some degree of accuracy.

”Port your pikes.”

Here all followed the word of command fairly well with the exception of Garlinge's fellow-rustic, who simply strove to repeat the order already executed. Halfman turned upon him sharply.

”Now, Clupp,” he cried, ”will you never learn the difference between port and comport?”

Clupp, the fellow addressed, bashful at finding himself the object of attention, swayed backward and forward with his pikestaff for a pivot, laughing vacantly.

”No, sir,” he gaped, stupidly. Master Halfman's lip wrinkled menacingly, and he reached his hand to his staff that lay upon the table.

”Indeed!” he said. ”Then I must ask Master Crabtree Cudgel to lesson you.”

He advanced threateningly towards the terrified fellow, but long before he could reach him Dame Satch.e.l.l had interposed her generous bulk between officer and private, not, however, as was soon shown, from any desire to intercede for the culprit.

”Leave him to me, sir,” she entreated, vehemently. ”If you love me, leave him to me.”

And, indeed, her angry eyes shone warranty that the offender would fare badly at her hands. Halfman waved her aside with a gesture of impatience.

”Mistress Satch.e.l.l,” he protested, ”you are a valiant woman, but a rampant amazon.”

Dame Satch.e.l.l's cheeks glowed a deeper crimson, and her variable anger raged from Clupp to Halfman.