The wall of the cabin was only a few feet away; if I could only reach that, with my back against it, I could hold them at bay for a few minutes longer. Slowly and painfully, inch by inch, my face to the foe, I made my way to it. My arm was weary with cutting; I was almost exhausted; several flesh wounds were bleeding freely, and it was only a few minutes until I would be overpowered by sheer force of numbers. It was only a few feet away now--would I never reach it? The seconds seemed like hours--days--as at a snail's pace I crept nearer to its protecting shelter. I had almost reached it now, nearer, nearer; at last, thank Heaven, my back was against it, and I faced them for the last act of the scene.
A moment thus we faced each other--the Spaniards yelling and shouting, I silent and still. They seemed to be in no hurry to meet the sword that had cut down so many of their fellows, but jostling and pushing they faced me, even as a pack of hounds, baying, gather around some grim old monarch of the forest, who, with antlers poised, stands ready to meet them.
A cry met my ears; a few feet from me the Spaniards were cutting and hacking at someone. A voice called "Sir Thomas!" With a shout I cut my way through them, as a she bear aroused by the cry of her cubs rushes upon the hunter, and with claws bared and flashing eyes, deals out destruction to those who dare to meet her. I knew the voice--it was Oliver's.
Raising my sword, I whirled it about my head with both hands, and cutting down the men who stood in my path, I made for the lad. Cutting and slashing all in my way, I cleared a path through them, the men giving back at the fury of my charge, until I stood above Oliver.
He lay in a pool of blood, the clotted gore all over his bonny gold curls. Stooping, I picked him up as though he had been a feather, and tucking him under my left arm, protecting him as best I could from the enemy's blows, my sword in my right hand, I began my journey back to the friendly shelter of the wall.
How I reached it I never knew. I was crazed with fury as I saw their angry faces, saw them cut at me, and slashed back right and left at them, the lad under my arm lying quiet and limp. I knew not whether he was alive or dead. Finally I stood once more against the wall, and dropping the boy on the floor behind me, I faced them again.