Nearer one end than the other was a round hole larger than a man's neck.
Kwan Yung-jin gave a command.

Several of the soldiers approached Tromp, who was sitting on the ground nursing a felon.

Now Tromp was a rather stupid, slow-thinking, slow-moving cuny, and before he knew what was doing one of the planks, with a scissors-like opening and closing, was about his neck and clamped.

Discovering his predicament, he set up a bull-roaring and dancing, till all had to back away to give him clear space for the flying ends of his plank.
Then the trouble began, for it was plainly Kwan Yung-jin's intention to plank all of us.

Oh, we fought, bare-fisted, with a hundred soldiers and as many villagers, while Kwan Yung-jin stood apart in his silks and lordly disdain.