He wore a red coat; he was a soldier. And as they gazed, he beat a furious rat-a-tan-tan and charged. That was enough. The Gang broke. II The Gentleman flashed round to meet the new danger. He saw a pair of twinkling legs, a huge drum, belly-borne, and two drum-sticks, brandished vaingloriously, driving a rout of men before them. The humour of the thing seized him. "Well done, Soldier!" he laughed, and was back over the wall in a trice, attempting to stop the rout. He might as well have attempted to stay the tide. A torrent of men tumbled past him in howling tumult. He stood like a lighthouse in the tide-way. "What! one man lick the lot o you!" came the whipping voice. "O, good God!" with a passion of scorn--"you sweeps! you swine!" His blade flashed and fell. "Pretty stroke!" shouted the Parson, flying the wall. "At em again, sir!" He cut in fiercely on the flank. "Come on, Knapp!--That's the style! Bellyful for once! Bellyful for the boy!" "I'm there, sir!" cried Knapp, very brisk and bright. He had flung aside his drum, and was tearing up, wielding his drum- sticks like battle-axes. "Into em!" bellowed the Parson. "Give em the glory o God! Give em the Lord's own delight!" He was hounding at the heels of the last smuggler, and the Gentleman was hounding at his. "Ow's that-a-tat-tat? ow's that?" cried Knapp, racing up from behind, and came down with a flourish and a thump on the swordsman's head as he thrust. Down went the Gentleman in sprawling ruin. "That's a little bit o better, ain't it?" chirped the Cockney, and skipping over the fallen man, he was at the Parson's side, in the thick and fury of it, bringing down his drum-sticks to the battle-cry of, "Ow's that-a-tat-tat? ow's that?" III The old man and the boys watched from the cottage. The door was ajar. They huddled behind it, peering. Beside them lay the table, a musket across it. In the silence they could hear each other's hearts. "Say, Maaster Sir!" whispered Blob. "Be you fear'd?" "Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies," replied Kit. "Be you?" "Oi dun knaw," replied the cautious lad. "Moi insoide seems koind o swimmy loike." "Then stand by to lend a hand with this table when I give the word," was all Kit's answer. He was watching with all his eyes. Parson and Gentleman were about to clash. Then a little figure rose out of the earth, and sullen thunder smote on the silence. Piper drew a deep breath. "I thart so," he said, comfortably. "Who is it?" asked Kit. "Jack Knapp, sir," said the old man, picking his teeth. "Sneaked a drum from a travellin showman by the look on it, and tow-rowin like a rigiment. See him thump it. Ho! ho! That's joy to Jack, I knaw. Now he's for chargin em, drum and all. Ha! ha!"