down and trampled on,
first by the flying people, then by the soldiers who pursued them. He
rose when the rush was over. The street around him was empty again. The
fragments of the shattered signboard lay around. The windows of the
house that had been attacked were all broken, either by the stones of
the people or the blows of the soldiers. There was a sound of fighting
within the house. Neal ran towards the door. A woman's shriek reached
him, and a moment later a soldier came out of the door dragging a girl
with him. He had a wisp of her hair gathered in his hand, and he pulled
at it savagely. The girl stumbled on the doorstep, fell, was dragged a
pace or two, staggered to her feet, clutched at the soldier's hand and
fastened her teeth in his wrist. Neal sprang forward at the man's
throat, grasped it, and, by the sheer impetus of his spring, bore the
dragoon to the ground. He was conscious of being uppermost in the fall,
of the fierce struggling of the man he held, of the girl tearing with
her hands and writhing in the effort to free her hair, of shouting near
at hand, of a rush of men from the house. Then he received a blow on the
head which stunned him. He awoke to consciousness a few minutes later,
and heard his uncle's voice.

"Is the girl inside and the man? Have you got him? Then for the door.
They'll hardly venture into the house again after the reception we gave
them. It was a mighty nice fight while it lasted. Now a light, a light.
Let us see if anyone's hurt."

Someone brought a light. Neal tried to rise, but was too giddy. The
girl whom the soldier had dragged into the street stood beside him.
Her hair--bright red hair--hung about her shoulders. Her dress was in
tatters, she was spitting blood, and wiping it off her mouth with the
back of her hand.

"Hullo, Meg, Peg, whatever your name is," said Donald Ward, "you're
bleeding. Where are you cut? Let me see to it?"

"Thon's no my blood," said the girl. "It's his. I got my teeth intil
him. Ay, faith, it's his blood that I'm spitting out of my mouth. I did
hear tell that it was black blood was in the likes of him, but I see now
it's red enough. I'm glad of it, for I've swallowed a gill of it since I
gripped his wrist, and I wouldna' like to swallow poison."

"Well, then, Peg, my wench, since you're not hurt, let's take a look
at the man that helped you. He's lying there mighty quiet. I'm afraid
there's some harm done to him."

Donald Ward took the light a