But in that predicament I heard Joe Punchard whistling, through the open door of the shop where he did ’prentice work for old Matthew Mark, the cooper.  I knew Joe well; he had often brought barrels to our farm, and once or twice on my way home from school I had gone into the shop and watched him at his work.

Now, as a fox when the hounds are in full cry behind him will run for shelter into any likely place that offers, so I, hard pressed as I was, rushed panting into the shop, too breathless at first to explain my need.

“Hallo!  What’s this!” cried Joe, who was just rolling down his sleeves before closing work for the day.  “What be the matter, Master Bold?  You be all of a sweat and puffing like to burst.”

“They’re after me!  Keep ’em off, Joe!” I gasped.

“After you, be they!  Some of your schoolmates worriting of you, eh?  Don’t be afeared, lad.  I be just going home, and I’ll see you safe to Bridge.

“Ah! there they be,” he added, as my pursuers appeared in the doorway.

“Good afternoon to you, and what might you be pleased to want?”

“Out of the road, Joe Punchard!” cries Cludde, walking into the shop.  “I’ll teach that little beast to run away.”

And he came forward to where I stood, sheltering myself behind Joe’s thick-set body.

“Bide a minute,” says Joe, lurching so as to shield me.  “What ha’ Master Bold bin doin’ to you?”

“What’s that to you?” says Cyrus Vetch, edging round him on the other side.  “He’s a young sneak, that’s what he is, and wants a good basting, and he’ll get it, too.”

“Not so fast now,” says Joe, sticking out his elbows to broaden himself.  “I know you, Master Vetch, and ’tis my belief you and Master Cludde are just nought but a brace of bullies, and you ought to be ashamed of yourselves, Master Cludde in particular, seeing as the little lad be your own cousin.”

“You shut your mouth, Joe Punchard!” shouts Cludde in a passion.  “He my cousin, indeed!—­the mean little charity brat!”

“And a blubbering baby, too!” says Vetch, “cries before he is hurt.”

“’Tis not much good crying after,” says Joe with a chuckle, before I could protest that I was not crying; I always did hate a blubbering boy.

“Now you two boys be off,” Joe went on.  “I’m going home, and I’ll see to it you don’t bait Master Bold no more this side of the Bridge.  And what’s more, I tell you this:  that if I cotch you two great chaps worriting the boy again, I’ll take and leather you, both of you, and that’s flat.”

“Try it, bandy-legs,” said Vetch with a sneer.  “We’ll do as we please, and if you dare to lay a hand on either of us, I’ll—­I’ll—­”

“What’ll you do, then?” says Joe, who all this while had been spreading himself in front of me.  “What’ll you do then?  D’you think I care a farden what you’ll do?  You’d better behave pretty, Master Vetch, or ’twill be worse for you, my young cockchafer.”