’Out of the way, young blusterer, or it will be the worse for thee. Our master, the captain, requires these cattle to victual our ship before sailing; come, off with thee! and don’t halloo all the breath out of thy body.’ But Harry’s blood was up. Enraged at the man’s daring and effrontery, he seized a stout stick from the hedge-row and sprang upon the intruder with the fury of a young lion. He never considered the inequality of the struggle or the folly of his engaging single-handed with a ruffian of this description; he only thought of saving his father’s property and avenging the insult. Nor were his well-directed blows mere make-believe, and as the man before him was suddenly aware of a sharp stinging pain across his forehead, he let go the lasso and sprang on to the boy with a fierce oath. [Illustration: "_HARRY’S BLOOD WAS UP_"] ’What, you young viper, you dare to strike me? Well, take that. Here, Jim, this way, bring the rope here; I’ll teach this churl to bethump me.’ As he spoke he wrenched away poor Harry’s stick, and with a well-directed blow he laid the boy on the ground. Harry felt a terrible pain in his head, his brain seemed to reel; bright, blood-red flashes blotted out the familiar fields, and then with a groan of pain he stretched out his right arm to grasp at some support, after which he remembered no more. The man appealed to as Jim had now run up, and laughed as he saw Harry fall insensible on the dewy grass. ’Bravo! the lad fell in fair fight, Joseph; but i’fecks! who would have thought of seeing you engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle with such a stripling? Hast done for him, comrade?’ he added with curiosity, in which was mingled neither pity nor fear. And yet the sight of Harry Fenn might have softened even a hard heart, one would have thought, as he lay there in the twilight on the dewy grass, whilst a slow trickling line of red blood fell from his forehead over his fair curling hair. ’Here, make haste,’ said the first man, whom his friend addressed as Coxon, ’the captain’s orders were that we must lose no time; there’ll be several more trips this evening, and he means to run down the Channel before morning.’ ’Then we’d best not leave the lad here. What say you, Coxon, shall I despatch him for fear of his waking up and telling tales before we return?’ Coxon looked down on the brave lad, and decided, he knew not why, to act more mercifully. ’Let him be, or wait--tie his legs and throw him in the long-boat; on our ship he’ll tell no tales, and when we cast anchor we can drop him somewhere, or give him a seaman’s burial if he’s dead, for, to tell the truth, it was a good whack that I dealt him. Now, Jim, quick, for fear some of those land dolts come down upon us, and deafen us with their complaints.’