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 hell: 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 shield. 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 knob-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. “Tell yo' what, lads, we'd best let 'em as don't know nowt at all aboot him go first. And onst they're on, mind, we winna let 'em off; but keep a-shovin' and a-bovin 'on 'em forra'd. _Then_ us'll foller.” By this time there was a little naked space of green round the bridge-head, like a fairy circle, into which the uninitiated might not penetrate. Round this the mob hedged: the Dalesmen in front, striving knavishly back and bawling to those behind to leggo that shovin'; and these latter urging valorously forward, yelling jeers and contumely at the front rank. “Come on! 'O's afraid? Lerrus through to 'em, then, ye Royal Stan'-backs!”--for well they knew the impossibility of their demand. And as they wedged and jostled thus, there stole out from their midst as gallant a champion as ever trod the grass. He trotted out into the ring, the observed of all, and paused to gaze at the gaunt figure on the bridge. The sun lit the sprinkling of snow on the dome of his head; one forepaw was off the ground; and he stood there, royally alert, scanning his antagonist. “Th' Owd Un!” went up in a roar fit to split the air as the hero of the day was recognized. And the Dalesmen gave a pace forward spontaneously as the gray knight-errant stole across the green.