He tried to get away, but I held on to him, and this drove him to fight
desperately, and for some minutes we were up and down, fighting,
wrestling, and hanging on to each other with all the fury of bitter
enemies.
I was beaten down to my knees twice over. I struggled up again though,
and held on with the stubbornness of a bull-dog.
Then being stronger than I he swung me round, so that I was crushed up
against the trunk of one of the trees, but the more he hurt me the more
angry I grew, and held on, striking at him whenever I could get an arm
free. I could hear him grinding his teeth as he struggled with me, and
at last I caught my feet in a currant bush, for even then I could tell
it by the smell, and down I went.
But not alone. I held on to him, and dragged him atop of me.
"Let go!" he cried hoarsely, as he struck me savagely in the face; and
when the pain only made me hang on all the more tightly he called out to
his companion, who had taken no farther part in the fray: "Here, Phil, Phil. Come on, you sneak."
I felt as if I had been stunned. Not by his blow, but by his words, as
for the first time I realised with whom I had been engaged.
A rustling noise on my left warned me that some one else was coming; but
I let my hands fall to my side, for I had made a grievous mistake, and
must strike no more.
In place now of my hanging on to Courtenay, he was holding me, and
drawing in his breath he raised himself a little, raised one hand and
was about to strike me, but before he could, Philip seemed to seize me
by the collar, and his brother too, but in an instant I felt that it was
a stronger grip, and a hoarse gruff voice that I knew well enough was
that of Sir Francis shouted out, "Caught you, have I, you young
scoundrels."
As he spoke he made us rise, and forced us before him--neither of us
speaking--through the bushes and on to the path, a little point of light
appearing above me, and puffs of pungent smoke from a cigar striking my
face.
"I've got t'other one," said a rough voice that I also recognised, and I
cried out involuntarily: "Ike--Ike!"
"That's me, lad. I've got him fast."
"You let me go. You hurt me," cried Philip out of the darkness.
"Hurt yer? I should think I do hurt you. Traps always does hurt, my
fine fellow. Who are you? What's your name?"
"Bring him here," cried Sir Francis; and as Ike half carried, half
dragged Philip out from among the trees on to the broad green walk, Sir
Francis cried fiercely: "Now, then! What's the meaning of all this!"