little, "I'll go first and carry the bucket."

He dragged Christian on to the first of the big, flat, old
stepping-stones, Judith assisting from the rear, and, with increasing
difficulty, two more stones were achieved. Then they paused for
breath, and a sudden whirlwind of passion came upon the captive. She
began to struggle and dance upon the flat stone, madly endeavouring to
free her hands, while she shrieked to the dastard Twins to come to her
rescue.

"Cowards! Cowards! I hate you all--"

"Better let her go," whispered Judith, who knew better than her Chief
what Christian's storms meant.

Richard hesitated, and, as in a mediaeval romance, at this moment a
champion materialised.

Not the Twins, lying like leopards along the higher boughs of a
neighbouring alder, deeply enjoying the spectacle, but a boy, smaller
than Richard, who came crashing through the bushes on the Coppinger's
Court side of the Ownashee. Arrived, at the ford, he stayed neither
his pace nor his stride, and before the Eldest Statesman, much
hampered by his prisoner and the bucket, could put up any sort of
defence, the unknown rescuer had sprung across the stepping-stones,
and, catching him by the shoulders, had, by sheer force of speed and
surprise, hurled him into the river.

Thus did Larry Coppinger, informally but effectively, introduce
himself to his second-cousins, the Talbot-Lowrys.