at dealing blows; but all the same they did not escape
punishment, as their faces showed, Vane in his desperation ignoring the
sticks and charging home with pretty good effect again and again.

"It's no good; I shall be beaten," he thought as he now protected
himself as well as he could by the shelter afforded by the tree he had
chosen, though poor protection it was, for first one and then the other
boy would dart in feinting with his stick and playing into the other's
hand and giving him an opportunity to deliver a blow. "I shall have to
give in, and the young savages will almost kill me."

And all this time he was flinching, dodging and shrinking here and
there, and growing so much exhausted that his breath came thick and
fast.

"Oh, if I only had a stick!" he panted, as he avoided a blow on one side
to receive one on the other; and this made him rush savagely at one of
the lads; but he had to draw back, smarting from a sharp blow across the
left arm, right above the elbow, and one which half numbed the member.

But though he cast longing eyes round, there was no sticks save those
carried by the boys, who, with flashing eyes, kept on darting in and
aiming wherever they could get a chance. There was one fact, however,
which Vane noticed, and which gave him a trifle of hope just when he was
most despairing: his adversaries never once struck at his head,
contenting themselves by belabouring his arms, back and legs, which
promised to be rendered quite useless if the fight went on.

And all the time neither of the gipsy lads spoke a word, but kept on
leaping about him, making short runs, and avoiding his blows in a way
that was rapidly wearing him out.

Should he turn and run? No, he thought; they would run over the ground
more swiftly than he, and perhaps get him down.

Then he thought of crying for help, but refrained, for he felt how
distant they were from everyone, and that if he cried aloud he would
only be expending his breath.

And lastly, the idea came again that he had better offer the lads all he
had about him. But hardly had the thought crossed his brain, than a
more vicious blow than usual drove it away, and he rushed from the
shelter of the tree-trunk at the boy who delivered that blow. In trying
to avoid Vane's fist, he caught his heel, staggered back, and in an
instant his stick was wrested from his hand, whistled through the air,
and came down with a sounding crack, while what one not looking