Then he took it in panting gulps until it seemed that he must choke in his gluttony of air.
"Fore George," quoth Crispin, "I was no more than in time.

Another second, and we should have had him, too, unconscious.

There, he is recovering." The blood was receding from the swollen veins of the parson's head, and his cheeks were paling to their normal hue.

Anon they went yet paler than their wont, as Galliard rested the point of his sword against the fellow's neck.
"Make sound or movement," said Crispin coldly, "and I'll pin you to the floor like a beetle.

Obey me, and no harm shall come to you." "I will obey you," the fellow answered, in a wheezing whisper.