He waved an arm, and gave a shrill cry, summoning help from further inland.

Other hats presently came bobbing toward him, low down among the marsh.

Puffs of white spurted out from the mud.

And as Heywood dodged back through the gate, and Nesbit's rifle answered from his little fort on the pony-shed, the distant crack of the muskets joined with a spattering of ooze and a chipping of stone on the river-stairs.
"Covered, you see," said Heywood, replacing the bar.

"Last resort, perhaps, that way.