“Just you go to that there door, and drive back the catch with this here knife. It’s nothing but a gallows staple; and a rap with the butt end will send it back, ten to one it will, miss. Put your handkercher over the lock, while you does it, and back it goes, if I know them locks. Have the can’le handy, to see where to hit. Then down to front door, and away to our cart. But don’t lose my knife, for the Lord’s sake. A sensible gal has always got two pockets.” Kitty, with her strength revived by spirit, took the big knife with an iron butt, and easily drove back the bolt, for the staple was an open one. Then Bill descended, without any noise, while she slipped gently down the stairs, and in the porch he met her. The front door had been bolted, but she drew back the bolt, and Bill took her hand, and she stood outside. “Halloa! What’s up?” cried a voice from inside, for the catch had closed again with a loud snap. “Run, miss, run; while I stop these chaps,” shouted Bill, and she ran like a hare from a dog. For a moment or two Bill was able to hold the brass knob of the lock against the two from within; but presently it slipped from his hand, and the door flew open, and two men prepared to rush out. But Tompkins threw his sack at full length over the head of the foremost; and striking wildly down he came on his knees, and the other fell across him. Bill made off, like a shot, while they cursed one another; and before they were afoot again, he had slipped through the opening of the unhinged gate and pulled it after him. Then using his long legs rather slackly, but to great effect through the length of their stride, he took the struck tree for his landmark, and without thought of the ghost, soon had Kitty at his side, and they made off, hot foot, for the cart and Mrs. Rowles. “Here you be, here you be!” shouted that good lady; “mind the ruts. The villains are after you.” This was too true. Though they might not have owned that description of themselves, two hasty men, without even a hat on, were rushing about, bewildered by the darkness and their own excitement, and taking the wrong way more often than the right. They fell among the furze, and got patterns on their faces, and showed no gratitude to Nature for one of her best gifts. But presently they spied the white nose of Spanker, which was hanging down with wonder if he ever should get home; and then they saw two figures in a hustle by the cart, and one was being helped in by the long stretch of the other. “Stop thieves!” cried Sir Cumberleigh, who was dreadfully out of breath; and therefore perhaps he let the other form go first to stop them. Then Bill turned round and faced them, and he said—“You get away! You ain’t got no right with this young leddy. And so help me God, I’ll smash you, if you offers for to touch her.” He advanced with his great fists revolving like a windmill, that being our accepted view of the “art of self-defence.”