Part 20 (1/2)
”Reasons, sir! No reasons can justify such an extraordinary breach of all the--the decencies. Reasons? the reasons of a maniac. Not to say more, sir. Fraudulent detention--fraudulent, I say, sir! What were your precious reasons?”
The mob with Tammas and Long Kirby at their head had now well nigh reached the plank-bridge. They still looked dangerous, and there were isolated cries of:
”Duck him!”
”Chuck him in!”
”An' the dog!”
”Wi' one o' they bricks about their necks!”
”There are my reasons!” said M'Adam, pointing to the forest of menacing faces. ”Ye see I'm no beloved amang yonder gentlemen, and”--in a stage whisper in the other's ear--”I thocht maybe I'd be 'tacked on the road.”
Tammas foremost of the crowd, had now his foot upon the first plank.
”Ye robber! ye thief! Wait till we set hands on ye, you and yer gorilla!” he called.
M'Adam half turned.
”Wullie,” he said quietly, ”keep the bridge.”
At the order the Tailless Tyke shot gladly forward, and the leaders on the bridge as hastily back. The dog galloped on to the rattling plank, took his post fair and square in the centre of the narrow way, and stood facing the hostile crew like Cerberus guarding the gates of h.e.l.l: his bull-head was thrust forward, hackles up, teeth glinting, and a distant rumbling in his throat, as though daring them to come on.
”Yo' first, ole lad!” said Tammas, hopping agilely behind Long Kirby.
”Nay; the old uns lead!” cried the big smith, his face gray-white. He wrenched round, pinned the old man by the arms, and held him forcibly before him as a covering s.h.i.+eld. There ensued an unseemly struggle betwixt the two valiants, Tammas bellowing and kicking in the throes of mortal fear.
”Jim Mason'll show us,” he suggested at last.
”Nay,” said honest Jim; ”I'm fear'd.” He could say it with impunity; for the pluck of Postie Jim was a matter long past dispute.
Then Jem Burton'd go first?
Nay; Jem had a lovin' wife and dear little kids at 'ome.
Then Big Bell?
Big Bell'd see 'isseif further first.
A tall figure came forcing through the crowd, his face a little paler than its wont, and a formidable k.n.o.b-kerry in his hand.
”I'm goin'!” said David.
”But yo're not,” answered burly Sam'l, gripping the boy from behind with arms like the roots of an oak. ”Your time'll coom soon enough by the look on yo' wi' niver no hurry.”
And the sense of the Dalesmen was with the big man; for, as old Rob Saunderson said:
”I reck'n he'd liefer claw on to your throat, lad, nor ony o' oors.”
As there was no one forthcoming to claim the honor of the lead, Tammas came forward with cunning counsel.