Nearer to the mansion the party drew, but, hidden by the trees, it was
not yet in sight. The old horse was spent, and, when a point opposite
the house had been gained, George sprang out, vaulted over the fence
into the wood, dashed through the growth of trees, and with another
spring leapt down upon the lawn, almost on the selfsame spot where he
had jumped over on the evening of the fire. For the last hundred yards
he had been aware of the roar of angry voices. The sight that met his
eyes, now that he was in full view of the scene, was an extraordinary
one.
Scattered about the trampled grassplots was a crowd of pitmen, surging
hither and thither, some armed with pickaxes, some with hedge-stakes,
some with nothing but nature's weapons. One fellow was in the act of
loading an old blunderbuss. Reared against the wall of the house were
two or three ladders, one smashed in the middle. The lower windows had
been barricaded with boards, but the mob had wrenched away the
protection at one point, and men were climbing in with great shouts of
triumph.
From the bedroom windows men were holding muskets, ready to fire, but
evidently unwilling to do so except as a last resource. George spied
his old friend Matthew at one window; at another, astonishing sight!
stood no other than Fieldsend! His own father was at a third.
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