This gave the young man the desired opportunity. Nimble as a fox when hotly pursued, he stepped back and with one bound took up a position on the top of a solid oak table, which stood in the deep shadow caused by the doorway, thus, for the moment, leaving Jack o’ Lantern as a barrier between himself and his enemies.
"Friend Stich," he shouted from this exalted height, "do you stand by the ladies. Stir not from their side whatever happens, nor interfere ’tween me and the soldiers at your peril."
The lust of battle was upon him now. He was satisfied with his position and longed to begin the fight. On his left was the outside wall of the shed, and guarding his right was the huge furnace of the smithy, out of which the burning embers cast fitful flickering lights upon his tall, slim figure, and drew from his blade sparks of blood-red gold.
He had wrapped the thick capes of his heavy cloth coat round his left arm: the folds of it hung down to his feet, forming a shield round the lower part of his figure.
Already the soldiers had recovered from the short panic caused by Jack o’ Lantern’s timely rearing. One of them now seized the horse by the bridle and led him out into the open, thus exposing Bathurst more fully to the onslaught of their bayonets.
Jack was fully prepared for them, and as soon as the Sergeant had given the order to attack, his steel began to dart in and out of the gloom like some live snake, with tongue of steel; illumined by the fitful embers of the furnace fire, it seemed to give forth a thousand sparks of witch-like flame with every turn of the cunning wrist. The outline of his head and shoulders was lost in the dense shadows above, whilst his assailants stood in the full glare of the setting sun, which, hot and blinding, came streaming into the shed.
Dazed by the flickering light of the furnace and the sunset glow beyond, the soldiers made very ineffectual plunges into the dark shadow, whence, fencing and parrying, and with many a quip and sally, Jack had at first an easy task in keeping them at bay.
This was mere child’s play to him; already one of the men had an ugly gash in his cheek, and the next moment saw the Sergeant reeling backwards, with a well-directed thrust through his right arm.