It was about midnight, when Amyas leaped to his feet, or rather fell upon his back, upsetting saddle, settle, and finally, table, under the notion that ten thousand flying dragons were bursting in the window close to his ear, with howls most fierce and fell.  The flying dragons past, however, being only a flock of terror-stricken geese, which flew flapping and screaming round the corner of the house; but the noise which had startled them did not pass; and another minute made it evident that a sharp fight was going on in the courtyard, and that Yeo was hallooing lustily for help.

Out turned the men, sword in hand, burst the back door open, stumbling over pails and pitchers, and into the courtyard, where Yeo, his back against the stable-door, was holding his own manfully with sword and buckler against a dozen men.

Dire and manifold was the screaming; geese screamed, chickens screamed, pigs screamed, donkeys screamed, Mary screamed from an upper window; and to complete the chorus, a flock of plovers, attracted by the noise, wheeled round and round overhead, and added their screams also to that Dutch concert.

The screaming went on, but the fight ceased; for, as Amyas rushed into the yard, the whole party of ruffians took to their heels, and vanished over a low hedge at the other end of the yard.

“Are you hurt, Yeo?”

“Not a scratch, thank Heaven!  But I’ve got two of them, the ringleaders, I have.  One of them’s against the wall.  Your horse did for t’other.”

The wounded man was lifted up; a huge ruffian, nearly as big as Amyas himself.  Yeo’s sword had passed through his body.  He groaned and choked for breath.

“Carry him indoors.  Where is the other?”

“Dead as a herring, in the straw.  Have a care, men, have a care how you go in! the horses are near mad!”

However, the man was brought out after a while.  With him all was over.  They could feel neither pulse nor breath.

“Carry him in too, poor wretch.  And now, Yeo, what is the meaning of all this?”

Yeo’s story was soon told.  He could not get out of his Puritan head the notion (quite unfounded, of course) that Eustace had meant to steal the horses.  He had seen the inn-keeper sneak off at their approach; and expecting some night-attack, he had taken up his lodging for the night in the stable.

As he expected, an attempt was made.  The door was opened (how, he could not guess, for he had fastened it inside), and two fellows came in, and began to loose the beasts.  Yeo’s account was, that he seized the big fellow, who drew a knife on him, and broke loose; the horses, terrified at the scuffle, kicked right and left; one man fell, and the other ran out, calling for help, with Yeo at his heels; “Whereon,” said Yeo, “seeing a dozen more on me with clubs and bows, I thought best to shorten the number while I could, ran the rascal through, and stood on my ward; and only just in time I was, what’s more; there’s two arrows in the house wall, and two or three more in my buckler, which I caught up as I went out, for I had hung it close by the door, you see, sir, to be all ready in case,” said the cunning old Philistine-slayer, as they went in after the wounded man.