Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 51: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

42 comfited pair. Poor Tom was sitting up, groaning, and holding his head in both hands. CHAPTER XII, THE ESCAPE. HEY were close to the end of the hall when Samson heard one of the women before him scream. It was useless, at least for a moment, to keep guard on Harchester and Malvern at the farther end of the corridor; so Samson Integrity whirled and ran up beside his companions. They were at the head of the narrow stairs, and down the flight, tossing with the light of several lanterns, Samson saw mine host, still in his wife’s cloak, furiously inciting a crowd of men to storm the stairs. © “Ale for you all, as much as you can drink for a fortnight!” cried the little man, who evidently saw some rich reward slip- ping through his fingers. ‘“ And a broad guinea for the man who downs one of ’em —one of the ravishers! Who’s ‘the man for merry England and the honor of England’s lasses?” The excitement of breaking from the tap- room, the tumult in the middle of the night, had by this time roused_the crowd to a high pitch of wrath, and now with a great bellow half a dozen of them rushed for'the stairs. Their very numbers were against them. They wedged and lodged in the nar- row passage, cursing and striking at one another. Some one, frantic with the fumes of last night’s ale or the peril of the instant, fired a pistol into the ceiling; then the whole mass of men stumbled on up the stairs. ‘“‘Tn the name of God, good friends, brave gentlemen!” cried the girl, and yet there was a certain dignity even in her terror. “ Are we lost? Is there nothing left to do?” “ Hell and furies!” groaned the coach- man in his favorite oath. ‘‘ We'll back into the hall and try another exit. Kate! Kate! Was ever such cursed ill-fortune?”’ Samson Integrity glanced back into the hall in ‘time to see Tom stumble to his feet and pick up his sword; old Malvern had raised a pistol, and now they came on to- gether toward the fugitives. It would ‘have ARGOSY-ALLSTORY’ WEEKLY. been sheer insanity to retreat and be caught between two fires. An old maxim of his father’s came into the mind of Samson, ‘“When in doubt on the field of battle, charge the enemy in his face!” ‘““ Coachman,” he said, ‘“‘ keep close to the ladies and follow me as you love life and honor and reward.” | “Up, up, lads, and at ’em!” shouted half a dozen voices from the mass of humanity which struggled up the long stairs. “The old. danger comes behind; there is only this way left. After me and swift- ly!” And with this parting admonition Samson Integrity fixed a final glance at the pale, set countenance of the girl, and then turned and, reversing his sword so that the blade thrust up beyond his shoul- der, and the hilt was like a cudgel in his fist, he sprang full in the faces of the as- cending crowd. There were knives and swords in that little crowd, and in any open space Samson could not have lasted for the space of one breath against them. As it was, the surprise of the attack, its sud- denness, the steepness of the narrow stairs, all worked in his favor. Down rolled the struggling mass toward the lower hall. A gun exploded, some one screamed, faces ap- peared before Samson and arms were raised against him, but he smote them down with short, cruel blows of the hilt of his sword. In the winking of an eye it was over. One or two lay sprawling and crushed on the stairs; the remainder stumbled in wild confusion, fighting each other in the hall below as the coachman rushed through with the two women on his arms. Samson In- tegrity followed them through the door. And they saw, in front of the tavern’s ruinous courtyard, two coaches and four; a stable- boy holding the heads of their own leaders. There was still need of haste. The pur- suit burst with a roar out of the tavern and rolled after them; a bullet whizzed over- head. Upper windows were thrust up and men and women shouted and screamed at the hubbub. But oddly enough, in the race for the coach the plump Lady Malvern was the winner and bounced into the vehicle with the agility of youth. Her daughter whipped in after her; Samson slammed the door and leaped onto the driver’s seat, eomicbooks (©