Although they were far enough from obeying his orders, they were not willing to turn him into an enemy, and so hung back expectant. Meantime the lame leg was on one side of the gate, the splints of which were sharpened at the points, and the sound leg was upon the other. I, on the one side--for he had let go my hand in order to support himself--retreated a little, and stood upon the defensive, trembling, I must confess; while my enemies on the other side could not reach me so long as Scroggie was upon the top of the gate. The lame leg went searching gently about, but could find no rest for the sole of its foot, for there was no projecting cross bar upon this side; the repose upon the top was anything but perfect, and the leg suspended behind was useless. The long and the short, both in legs and results, was, that there Scroggie stuck; and so long as he stuck, I was safe. As soon as I saw this, I turned and caught up Davie, thinking to make for home once more. But that very instant there was a rush at the gate; Scroggie was hoisted over, the knife was taken out, and on poured the assailants, before I had quite reached the other end of the bridge. “At them, Oscar!” cried a voice. The dog rushed past me on to the bridge, followed by Turkey. I set Davie down, and, holding his hand, breathed again. There was a scurry and a rush, a splash or two in the water, and then back came Oscar with his innocent tongue hanging out like a blood-red banner of victory. He was followed by Scroggie, who was exploding with laughter. [Illustration] Oscar came up wagging his tail, and looking as pleased as if he had restored obedience to a flock of unruly sheep. I shrank back from Scroggie, wishing Turkey, who was still at the other end of the bridge, would make haste. “Wasn’t it fun, Ranald?” said Scroggie. “You don’t think I was so lame that I couldn’t get over that gate? I stuck on purpose.” Turkey joined us with an inquiring look, for he knew how Scroggie had been in the habit of treating me. “It’s all right, Turkey,” I said. “Scroggie stuck on the gate on purpose.” “A good thing for you, Ranald!” said Turkey. “Didn’t you see Peter Mason amongst them?” “No. He left the school last year.” “He was there, though, and I don’t suppose _he_ meant to be agreeable.” “I tell you what,” said Scroggie: “if you like, I’ll leave my school and come to yours. My mother lets me do as I like.” I thanked him, but said I did not think there would be more of it. It would blow over. Allister told my father as much as he knew of the affair; and when he questioned me, I told him as much as I knew.