Page:True stories of girl heroines.djvu/397

Rh The boy was trembling; but he did not give way. He pulled a little dirk from his belt.

"Yes; but I must defend you, Jessy; not you me. You have risked your life already. You must not do more. It is me they want—not you."

But the injured arm had no power to strike a blow. Jessy tenderly took the dirk from between the numbed fingers.

"Say your prayers, Tim, if you can remember any," said Jessy, between long breaths, "for we shan't easily get out of this alive."

"There they are—see them? The witch-wench and the boy? Ah, ha, my fine maid, you'll sing a more civil tune to-day I warrant. Give us over the boy, and maybe we'll let you off easy!"

"The first man that touches him I'll kill!" cried Jessy.

"Curse her for a witch," cried one of the men, recoiling before the fierce aspect of the girl; but Moffat was filled with the lust of blood and of fury, and with a yell of menace, he pushed up the boat against the narrow shelf on which the pair were cowering.

"Hand over the boy."

A yell of pain interrupted him. Jessy, seeing better than she could be seen, had seized the moment and driven her dagger clean through the arm of the man who was seeking to clutch at the shelf.

Just for a few minutes the girl held her ground