"Doan't 'ee kill me, mon. I've had enough," he grunted.
Kilmeny sprang to his feet, caught up the bar of steel, and poked the prostrate man in the ribs with it.
"Get up," he ordered. "You're a pair of cowardly brutes. Can't be decent to a couple of helpless women in your power. Can't play fair in a fight with a man half the size of one of you. Get up, I say, and throw a dipperful of water in Trefoyle's face. He's not dead by a long shot, though he deserves to be."
Peale clambered to his feet in sulky submission and did as he was told. Slowly Trefoyle's eyelids flickered open.
"What be wrong wi' un?" he asked, trying to sit up.
"You got what was coming to you. Is it enough, or do you want more?"
"Did 'ee hit me, lad. Fegs, it's enough. I give you best."
"Then get up. We'll go back to the house for blankets and fuel. You'll sleep to-night with the horses in the tunnel."
The two girls shivering in the hot room heard the footsteps of the returning men as they crunched the snow. Moya sat opposite the door, white to the lips, her hand resting on the table and holding the revolver. Joyce had sunk down on the bed and had covered her face with her hands.
A cheerful voice called to them from outside.
"All right. Everything settled. Let us in, please."
Moya flew to the door and unbolted it. The Cornishmen came in first, and after them Kilmeny. At sight of the ravages of war Joyce gave a little cry of amazement. The big miners were covered with blood. They had the cowed hangdog look of thoroughly beaten men. Jack's face too was a sight, but he still walked springily.
He gave curt commands and the others obeyed him without a word. Almost the first thing he did was to step to the table and fling the whisky bottle through the door into the storm.
"We'll not need that," he said.
One of the miners gathered up their extra blankets while the other took a load of firewood.
As soon as they had gone Joyce cried breathlessly, "You fought them."
Jack looked at her and his eyes softened. All men answered to the appeal of her beauty. "We had a little argument. They couldn't see it my way. But they're satisfied now."
Moya bit her lower lip. Her eyes were shining with tears. A queer emotion welled up in her heart. But it was Joyce who put their thanks into words.
"You saved us. You're the bravest man I ever saw," she cried.