Jack seized his small portmanteau and hurled it at the ruffian’s legs, causing him not only to yell with pain at the sharp rap he got on his shins, but also to fall forward heavily on hands and knees. He uttered an oath, and cried out to his two companions to ‘finish the young whelp.’ Red-Head rushed in to do so; but Jack, who was a first-class boxer, having won the gloves on two occasions at his old school, gave the ruffian an upper cut on the point of the chin which dashed his teeth together with a snap that sounded like the meeting of the jaws of a rat-trap. The tramp badly bit his tongue, and he fell back, spitting out blood. Jack then started to run down towards the highroad, shouting, ‘Help! help! Thieves!’ at the top of his voice. He might have got safely away after all had it not been for tramp number three. This scoundrel had hovered in the rear of his companions till he saw Jack start off for the road, when, with a big stone which he had picked up, he set off in pursuit. He was lean and long-legged, and he gained at every stride on poor, tired Jack. They hadn’t gone more than a dozen paces when he hurled the stone, a jagged flint, which he held in his hand. This caught Jack on the knee, and caused him to cry out in agony and come to a sudden stop, when the three men threw themselves upon their victim, pommelling and dragging at him as though they would tear every shred of clothes off his body. However, Jack was not yet conquered, and he fought and tore, kicking, scratching, and biting like a mad thing, yelling loudly for help, and defying the efforts of the men to snatch from him his watch--his father’s last present to him--or to tear from his pocket his little stock of money. Such a struggle, however, could not last long, and presently the man with the bludgeon wrenched away Jack’s watch and chain. He then stood by, waiting for an opportunity to give the lad a blow that should keep him quiet while the others rifled his pockets, when all of a sudden he cried out, ‘Ware, boys! there’s somebody comin’!’ The others paused in their work, and Jack gave another yell at the top of his lungs, when the trampling of a horse sounded in his ears and an angry voice cried out, ‘Now, you scum, what’s this?’ Then Red-Head, who had Jack by the throat, was lifted bodily up by his scruff and his ragged trousers, and hurled violently into the ditch beside the road. Half-dazed, Jack glanced up to see in front of him a soldier facing the remaining roughs. These seemed half-inclined to show fight; but the soldier struck out with one gauntleted fist, and he who had thrown the stone at Jack joined his companion in the ditch. For a moment they lay there, then crawled out; upon which the soldier, running up to them, applied the toe of his boot to their coat-tails in a most determined manner, crying out at the same time, ‘Cut it, you rogues--cut it, or it will be the worse for you.’