Lewis Arundel; Or, The Railroad Of LifeSmedley, Frank E. (Frank Edward)
General
Lewis Arundel; Or, The Railroad Of Life
Smedley, Frank E. (Frank Edward)
English fiction -- 19th century
“Come along, boys! we must rescue him,” exclaimed Bracy; and suiting
the action to the word, he bounded forward, and hitting right and left,
reached the scene of conflict. Lewis and the others, abandoning the
steps, followed his example, and the row became general. For some
minutes the uproar was terrific; blows were given and received; blood
began to flow from sundry noses; and certain eyes that had begun the
evening blue, brown, or grey, as the case might be, assumed a hue dark
as Erebus. As for Lewis, he knocked down one of the fellows who had
hold of Grandeville; then he picked up the Irishman, who of course had
singled out and attacked the biggest man in the crowd (none other indeed
than the rough-coated patriot, who appeared a sort of leader among
them), and been immediately felled by him to the ground; then
he assisted Frere in extricating the pale-faced youth from three
individuals of questionable honesty, who were availing themselves of the
confusion to empty his pockets; as he did so he felt himself seized
with a grasp of iron, and turning his head, found he was collared by the
gigantic leader. A violent but ineffectual effort to free himself only
served to convince him that in point of strength he was no match for
his antagonist, who, regarding him with a smile of gratified malice,
exclaimed, “Now then, young feller, I’ve been a-waiting to get hold of
you. How about a black eye now?” As he spoke he drew him forward with
one hand and struck at him savagely with the other. Avoiding the blow by
suddenly dodging aside, Lewis closed with his adversary, and inserting
his knuckles within the folds of his neckcloth, tightened it, until in
self-defence, and in order to avoid strangulation, the fellow was forced
to loosen his grasp of Lewis’s collar. The instant he felt himself free,
Lewis, giving the neckcloth a final twist, and at the same time pressing
his knuckles into the man’s throat, so as for the moment almost to
throttle him, stepped back a couple of paces, and springing forward
again before the other had time to recover himself, hit up under his
guard and succeeded in planting a stinging and well-directed blow
exactly between his eyes; this, followed by a similar application rather
lower on the face, settled the matter. Reeling backwards, his antagonist
lost his footing and fell heavily to the ground, dragging one of his
companions down with him in a futile attempt to save himself. The fall
of their leader threw a damp on the spirits of the others; and although
those in the rear were still clamorous with threats and vociferations,
the members of the crowd in more immediate proximity to the little party
showed small inclination to renew the attack.
[Illustration: 0050]
“Now’s our time for getting away,” said Bracy. “Make a bold push for the
door.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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