"Patty Cannon has come!" Van Dorn repeated, throwing himself into the
body of the defenders, who, terrified at his bravery, began to retreat
upward around the angles of the stairs.
One man, however, did not retreat, neither did he strike, but wrapped
Van Dorn around the body in a pair of long and powerful arms, and lifted
him from the landing by main strength, saying:
"High doings, friend! I'm concerned for thee."
Van Dorn felt at the grip that he was overcome. He tried to reach for
his knife, but his arms were enclosed in the unknown stranger's, who,
having seized him from behind, sought to push him through the square
window on the landing into the grass yard below, where the rain was
falling and the lightning making brilliant play among the herbs and
ferns.
As the kidnapper prepared himself to fall, with all his joints and
muscles relaxed, the boy, Owen Daw, lying bloodthirstily along the limb
of the old tulip-tree, aimed his musket, according to Van Dorn's
instructions, at the forms contending there, and greedily pulled the
trigger.
The Quaker's arms, as they enclosed Van Dorn, presented, upon the cuff
of his coat, a large steel or metal button, and the ball from the tree,
striking this, glanced, and entered Van Dorn's throat.
"_Ayme Guay!_" Van Dorn muttered, and was thrown out of the window to
the earth, all limp and huddled together, till John Sorden bore him off,
muttering,
"I loved him as I never loved A male.
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