Whoever else might escape there was no hope for that wingless old man. His fate was certain, his end was already come. Within five minutes at most the great doors would have slammed on him for ever. And here he sat chuckling like a boy at a fair. It is something to be a saint, thought Kit, something to be as sure as that. This old man had built his house upon the Rock indeed. They watched the stampede, and the Gentleman's vain attempt to stay it. Their hearts surged to the Parson's battle-cry, and sank to the Gentleman's thrust, to surge again as Knapp felled his man. "Knapp'd him a nice un," chuckled the old man, not above a pun at death's door. "Reglar revellin in it is Knapp, I knaw." "Our time's coming!" panted Kit. "Stand by, Blob!" The Gentleman was down, the Gang upon the run. "Now, sir!" cried Piper. "Now's your chance." IV "Now, Blob!--nippy with the table there!" Out they rushed, and dumped the table down on the left of the door. "That'll do, sir, thank you," said the old man, trundling out after them. "That'll cover my flank nicely.... Butter-my-wig!" with kindling eyes on the battle, "but Mr. Joy's busy." "Come on, Blob!" yelled Kit. "Come along, boys!" roared the Parson. "Pretty work forrad, and plenty for all!" The Gentleman rose white-faced from his knees. "A moil a moil" he shouted, waving. Behind him Kit heard a yell, and the crash and scatter of men storming down the shingle-bank. Then silence as they took the grass. He flung his head across his shoulder as he ran. The lugger-guard, loosed at last, were hurling across the greensward at him, bayonets at the charge. Such tall and terrible men!--and how they strode along, bearskins a- bob, savage eyes smouldering, snapping fierce phrases at each other as they came! Kit loosed his soul in a ghastly scream. "Back, Blob!" It was well done, and not difficult to do. He had but to utter the horror that was in him. "O, Kit!" came the Parson's resentful bellow. "I'm afraid!" screamed the lad. "I can't help it. O-o-o-h!" He ran with huddled head, clutching at the boy before him. "_Attrapez ces gaillards! Ne tirez pas!_" shouted the Gentleman. "_Un deux d'entre vous leur coupent le chemin! Les autres, par ici!_" "_Ah, oui, mon Général!_" panted the Corporal. "_Francois! Albert!_" Two men sprang away from the rest and raced to intercept the boys. What a pace they ran! Their black-gaitered legs seemed to skim the ground. The boy had not allowed for such speed. "_Toi de l'autre côté de la chaumière. Moi ici!_" called the swifter of the two. He flashed behind the cottage, and flashed up again round the gable- end. Kit recognised him. It was François, his friend of the dawn. "Tiens! c'est toi, mon gars!" cried the man, with a quick smile.