But next moment another shower of weapons came from the opposite side, and the crowd rushed to other shelter.
Cyril pulled out a javelin that had stuck in the roof of the hut beside him.

Its head was of brightly burnished copper.
Then the sound of shouting arose again and the crackle of dried thorns.
The enemy was breaking down the hedge.

All the villagers swarmed to the point whence the crackling and the shouting came; they hurled stones over the hedges, and short arrows with flint heads.

The children had never before seen men with the fighting light in their eyes.

It was very strange and terrible, and gave you a queer thick feeling in your throat; it was quite different from the pictures of fights in the illustrated papers at home.
It seemed that the shower of stones had driven back the besiegers.