tar.
The ringleader was bending over his cask, black-jack in hand, when the
soldier's iron grip fell upon his collar, and in a moment his heels were
flapping in the air, and his head three feet deep in the cask, while the
beer splashed and foamed in every direction. With a mighty heave Buyse
picked up the barrel with the half-drowned miner inside, and hurled it
clattering down the broad marble steps which led from the body of the
church. At the same time, with the aid of a dozen of our men who had
followed us into the Cathedral, we drove back the fellow's comrades, and
thrust them out beyond the rails which divided the choir from the nave.

Our inroad had the effect of checking the riot, but it simply did so by
turning the fury of the zealots from the walls and windows to ourselves.
Images, stone-work, and wood-carvings were all abandoned, and the whole
swarm came rushing up with a hoarse buzz of rage, all discipline and
order completely lost in their religious frenzy. 'Smite the Prelatists!'
they howled. 'Down with the friends of Antichrist! Cut them off even at
the horns of the altar! Down with them!' On either side they massed, a
wild, half-demented crowd, some with arms and some without, but filled
to a man with the very spirit of murder.

'This is a civil war within a civil war,' said Lord Grey, with a quiet
smile. 'We had best draw, gentlemen, and defend the gap in the rails, if
we may hold it good until help arrives.' He flashed out his rapier as
he spoke, and took his stand on the top of the steps, with Saxon and Sir
Gervas upon one side of him, Buyse, Reuben, and myself upon the other.
There was only room for six to wield their weapons with effect, so our
scanty band of followers scattered themselves along the line of the
rails, which were luckily so high and strong as to make an escalado
difficult in the face of any opposition.

The riot had now changed into open mutiny among these marshmen and
miners. Pikes, scythes, and knives glimmered through the dim light,
while their wild cries re-echoed from the high arched roof like the
howling of a pack of wolves. 'Go forward, my brothers,' cried the
fanatic preacher, who had been the cause of the outbreak--'go forward
against them! What though they be in high places! There is One who
is higher than they. Shall we shrink from His work because of a naked
sword? Shall we suffer the Prelatist altar to be preserved by these sons
of Amalek? On, on! In the name of the Lor