After a time all that she could see was Hamilton's face behind the
curtain of flashing swords, and all that she could hear, even above the
din, was his heavy breathing. He had thrown off his doublet and was
fighting in his shirt sleeves, desperately, and it seemed hopelessly.
Soon the blood began to stream down his face, and the white linen of his
shirt was covered with red blotches.
No man can stand long against odds of three to one, but, for what seemed
a very long time to Frances, Hamilton defended himself gallantly, and
seemed to be giving back as much as he received.
But the fight could not have lasted much longer, and sooner or later,
George would have been cut to pieces, had not little Betty entered the
fray. No weapon had she, not even a teapot, but she ran bravely in, knelt
behind one of the ruffians, and when an opportunity came, seized him by
the foot, bringing him down to the floor with a thud. Quickly another
foot was in Betty's deadly grasp, and another man fell, leaving only one
assailant standing, whom Hamilton soon routed. The two men on the floor
attempted to rise, but Betty clung to their feet, and George's sword
quieted them.
When George was satisfied that the ruffians would not try again to
introduce themselves to the duchess and the princess, he wiped his sword
on Betty's five shilling table linen, remarking:--
"I thank you, Betty dear. You came into the fight just in time to save my
life.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120