The farm-folk held their breath and watched. The Ratcliffes, clustered in a little knot, followed each steel-ripple, each cut and counter-cut, and forgot for the moment to take sides from very love of swordsmanship. And then Wayne knocked the other's blade high up in air, and would have had him through the breast had Red Ratcliffe not jerked his left hand on the curb and dragged his horse round into safety. Wayne could not pursue, even had he been minded to leave his shelter, for another Ratcliffe was on him now, offering fight as stubborn as the first.
"My breath will fail," thought Wayne, and redoubled the swiftness of his blows, and cut his man deep through the rib-bones.
But there were three left yet, and Red Ratcliffe, smarting under his defeat, had brought guile to help him where force had failed. While the sword-din began afresh, and again Wayne settled to the desperate conflict, Red Ratcliffe got to ground, picked up the sword that had been ripped from out his grasp, and crept softly to the far edge of the pinfold.
"'Tis child's play, after all," he thought. "Lord, how the rogue fights, with never a thought that he can be taken in the rear."
Wayne--forcing the battle with all his might, lest breath should fail--could get no nearer to his man as yet; and meanwhile Red Ratcliffe had gained the wall behind him and was throwing one leg over.
"He cannot keep it up, can't th' lad," murmured Hiram Hey. "Sakes, I've a mind to run in myseln an' do summat--though I mun be crazy to think on 't.--Hallo, what's agate wi' Red Ratcliffe? He looks pleased-like, an' he's getten off his horse. Oh, that's it, is't? Well, I can do a bit o' summat, happen, after all."
Hiram moved briskly up to the pinfold and reached the hinder wall just as Red Ratcliffe was climbing over it; he set a pair of arms about his middle, as he had done to one of the Wildwater farm-folk not long ago, and put his muscle into the lift, and brought his enemy with a thud on to the peat five yards away.
"Fair play's a jewel ye've niver learned th' price on at Wildwater," he said quietly. "Ye war for sticking th' Maister i' th' back, as ye could no way meet him i' front? Well, there's two opinions about ivery matter, an' mine's th' reet un this time, I'm thinking. 'Twar a Providence, it war, that yond hind o' thine came in to th' Friendly tavern yesterneet; he braced me fine for hoicking feather-weights ower my shoulder, like."