With a short, sharp cry she sank upon the ground, exhausted and half dead with terror, and she heard the brutal shout of triumph with which the roisterers hailed this sight.
In another moment they would be upon her.

She heard them shouting to their horses as they pulled them up.

But was there not another sound, too?
What was the meaning of that fierce demand in a very different voice?
She lifted her head to see a third rider spurring up at a hand gallop, and before she had time to make up her mind whether or not this was a third foe, or a defender suddenly arisen as it were from the very heart of the earth, she felt herself covered as by some protecting presence, and heard a firm voice above her saying: "The first man who dares attempt to touch her I shoot dead!" There was a great deal of blustering and swearing and hectoring.
Cherry, still crouched upon the ground, shivered at the hideous imprecations levelled at her protector, and feared every moment to see him struck to the ground.

But he held his position unflinchingly, and the tipsy gallants contented themselves with vituperation and hard words.

Perhaps they thought the game not worth the candle.