As Jack struggled to his legs, a furious blow
directed at him was parried by Jarvis's left arm,--his right being busy
guarding his own head. The blow was a fearful one; it broke the small
bone in the forearm, beat down the guard, and came with terrible force
upon poor Jack's left shoulder, disabling it for a minute. At the same
time Jarvis received a nasty blow across the face from an unexpected
quarter. He was staggered by it, but he did not fall. Jack's right arm
was good and very angry; a savage jab with his club into the face of the
man who had struck Jarvis laid him low, and Jack grinned with
satisfaction.
Things were going hard with the young men. They had, indeed,
disqualified nine of the enemy; but there were still eight or ten more,
and through hard work and harder knocks they had lost more than half
their own fighting strength. At this rate they would be used up
completely while there were still three or four of the enemy on foot.
This was when they needed aid, and aid came.
No sooner had Lars found himself at liberty and with a club in his hands
than he began to use it with telling effect.
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