The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the FirstFenn, George Manville
History
The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First
Fenn, George Manville
Great Britain -- History -- James I, 1603-1625 -- Juvenile fiction
Already the shallows were coming to an end, the water reaching to his
knees; and it was here that, encouraged and bullied into making a fresh
attack, the dogs overtook him once more, and half swimming, half making
leaps, they came at him, the bigger avoiding a blow, and seizing him by
the left, fortunately without hurt, the animal's teeth meeting only in
the padding of the short breeches of the period; but it held on,
growling, and shaking its head violently, while its companion, after a
deal of barking, dashed in on the right.
This time Ralph's aim was surer and quicker, the dog receiving a sharp
cut across the ear from the butt of the rod, and going down at once, to
begin howling, and swimming in a circle.
Rid thus of one enemy, the lad proceeded to get rid of the second by a
very simple plan. Lowering his left hand, he got hold of the strap
which formed the dog's collar, and in spite of its struggles and
worryings, went on as fast as he could go--slowly enough, all the same--
to where the water deepened; and as it reached his thigh, he bent his
knees, with the natural result that as the dog held tenaciously to its
mouthful of cloth and padding, its head was beneath the water.
A few seconds were sufficient to make it quit its hold, and come up
choking and barking; but in obedience to the urging on of one of the
men, to pluckily renew the attack.
A sharp crack from the butt knocked all the remaining courage out of its
head, and it turned, howling, to swim back toward its masters.
"Here, it's no good, young Darley," yelled one of the men. "You may
give up now. We've got you fast."
"And it'll be the worst for you, if you don't. We have got you now."
"Hold me tight, then," muttered the lad, with a triumphant feeling at
his chances of escape beginning to make him glow.
"You mustn't go there," shouted another. "It's woundy deep, and you'll
get sucked down."
"Come and be sucked down after me," muttered Ralph, as the dogs began
barking again furiously, but refused to follow and attack, keeping close
to the men, who were all now in the river, wading slowly, the walls
having grown too precipitous for them to keep on the sides.
Ralph's progress was slow enough too, for the water had deepened till it
was above his waist, and the next minute was nearly to his armpits,
while the river having narrowed now to half its width, the stream though
deep came faster, and grew harder to stem.
"D'you hear, youngster!" roared the leader. "You'll be drownded."
"Better that than be caught and dragged up to the Black Tor for that
wretched boor, Mark Eden, to triumph over me," thought Ralph; and he
pushed boldly on, forced his way a dozen yards, and then made a step, to
find no bottom, and going down over his head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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