The boys grunted impatiently, and the blacksmith
swore in his beard. Then the soldier took another step back, laughing at
his wit, yet moving irresolutely, as though he had another word or two to
add to the joke. After this his progress backwards was steady.
At last, when he was within a yard of the precise spot, and not one of the
attacking party had a grain of patience left, the smith dropped his hand,
and Jack toppled the stone over the edge. It fell with a terrible
swiftness; the soldier completed his yard of step, and the block took him,
not on the crown, but on the right shoulder. It was, however, enough. Down
he fell without a sound.
His companion, glancing up at the instant, saw him fall, and, leaving his
matchlock, ran to his assistance. At the same moment the smith and the boys
rushed from the shrubbery. The soldier, running towards his friend,
observed them approaching, checked himself in bewilderment, and then swung
round on his heel and made for his weapon. But Matthew was too quick for
him. The smith was quite twenty yards distant, but, gathering himself
together, he flung out his arm, and with all his might threw the iron bar
at the retreating sentry. The missile sped true; over and over it twisted
in the air, and, catching the soldier with a horrid thud in the back, laid
him low.
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