"Say something to them, Ishmael; say something to them. Don't go on like
that ..." he muttered urgently.

Ishmael turned on him a face distorted with passion. "Say
something--what is there to say to brutes like that? Ah!..."

Archelaus had thrown the lantern underfoot and trampled it out; a
darkness impenetrable to dazzled eyes enwrapped them. Killigrew, keeping
his head amidst the scuffing he heard, dived for where he had seen young
Jacka standing in guilty stillness, his dark lantern dangling from his
hand. Almost at once Killigrew felt his own fingers meet its smooth,
slightly hot surface; he wrenched it away and fumbled desperately at the
slide. A beam, pale but wavering, shot out into the darkness as he
succeeded in his effort, and by its light, as men in moments of emotion
may see some one thing or action painted on their retina by a lightning
flash, he saw Archelaus bringing his stick, muffled in a coat, down on
Ishmael's head. The next second the blow fell--there had not been time
for Archelaus to check the impetus of the blow when the discovering
light flared onto him. There came the heavy sound of a body falling on
the thick-piled leaves. Archelaus stumbled up against Killigrew,
knocking the lantern from his hand; it hit against a boulder and went
out.

It was the voice of Archelaus that broke the stricken stillness.

"Don't 'ee move, you chaps ..." it said, in tones that made a ghastly
essay at confidence and trembled despite his efforts. "I fear Silly
Peter's done someone a hurt.... I saw en striking out.... Why ded'n 'ee
all keep still same as I ded ... someone light a lantern...." Followed a
sound of fumbling, and then a light wavered in Killigrew's fingers; he