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Updated: June 12, 2025
Just at this moment the rest of Coleman's friends, including Tommy Bogey and Peekins, appeared on the scene in breathless haste, having been attracted by the pistol-shot. In the eager question and answer that followed, Long Orrick was for a moment not sufficiently guarded.
Old Orrick stared down at the prostrate figure, and presently touched it with his tattered foot. It did not stir. His fierce joy died. He looked about him apprehensively, and his eye fell at once upon a dim-lit cottage off the road just back of him. His cottage how had he forgotten that? Was that dark thing a man standing there at the gate? Suddenly a great terror seized the old man.
This enabled him to hurl his other assailants to the ground, where they lay stunned and motionless. He then darted at Coleman and Long Orrick, who were still struggling together with tremendous fury. Seeing his approach, the smuggler suddenly gave in, relaxed his hold, and exclaimed, with a laugh, as Bax laid hold of him "Well, well, I see it's all up with me, so it's o' no use resistin'."
He prolonged his walk on this occasion to the extremity of his beat, but, long before reaching that point his figure was lost to the smuggler's view in darkness. "At last!" exclaimed Rodney Nick, taking a dark lantern from his breast, and peering cautiously in every direction. "Now then, Long Orrick, if ye look sharp we'll cheat 'em again, and chew our quids and drink our grog free of dooty!"
"Stop!" cried the other, seizing his comrade by the arm as he was turning to go away. "A feller might as well try to joke with a jackass as with you. In coorse I don't mean that; but I'll threaten the old hypocrite and terrify him till he's half dead, and then he'll give in." "He's a frail old man," said Rodney; "suppose he should die with fright?" "Then let him die!" retorted Long Orrick.
Old Coleman, in the course of quarter of a mile's run, felt that his powers were limited and wisely stopped short; Bax, Guy, and Tommy Bogey held on at full speed for upwards of two miles along the beach, following the road which wound along the base of the chalk cliffs, and keeping the fugitive well in view. But Long Orrick was, as we have seen, a good runner.
It was evident that Long Orrick was becoming impatient from the way in which he turned, now to windward, to scan the threatening sky, and then to land-ward, to look for the expected signal.
He went back a step or two, bending down and scrutinizing the brown earth. Orrick, presently announcing that the coin might have rolled, made a slow way across the road on his knees, patting the ground with his hand as he moved. Near the edge of it, half in the woods, lay a thick piece of split firewood, long as a man's arm and stouter. The knotted old fingers stealthily closed on it.
Doubtless you know why they should feel unkindly towards you. I make myself perfectly clear, do I not? Only this afternoon I heard that a little party was being gotten together for my benefit." The author dropped his nervous-looking eyes; he tugged uncertainly at his wisp of a mustache. "This thump on the head from poor old Orrick may satisfy them," continued Varney. "But my idea is that it won't.
He ran so fast on this occasion that he reached the end of the street before the fugitive had turned into the next one. He saw distinctly that two men were running before him, and, concluding that they were Long Orrick and Supple Rodger, he did his best to keep them in view. Long Orrick and his pursuer were well matched as to speed. Both were good runners; but the former was much the stronger man.
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