with elbows and fists. He caught one of the three by his collar, and
tore his jacket open from the neck to the waist; he drove his foot into
the pit of the stomach of another, and knocked him breathless. The other
lads not in the fight stood upon the benches and the beds around, but
such was the awe inspired by the prestige of the bachelors that not one
of them dared to lend hand to help him, and so Myles fought his fierce
battle alone.

But four to one were odds too great, and though Myles struggled as
fiercely as ever, by-and-by it was with less and less resistance.

Blunt had picked up the clog he had dropped when he first attacked the
lad, and now stood over the struggling heap, white with rage, the blood
running from his lip, cut and puffed where Myles had struck him, and
murder looking out from his face, if ever it looked out of the face of
any mortal being.

"Hold him a little," said he, fiercely, "and I will still him for you."

Even yet it was no easy matter for the others to do his bidding, but
presently he got his chance and struck a heavy, cruel blow at Myles's
head. Myles only partly warded it with his arm. Hitherto he had fought
in silence, now he gave a harsh cry.

"Holy Saints!" cried Edmund Wilkes. "They will kill him."

Blunt struck two more blows, both of them upon the body, and then at
last they had the poor boy down, with his face upon the ground and his
arms pinned to his sides, and Blunt, bracing himself for the stroke,
with a grin of rage raised a heavy clog for one terrible blow that