"Here you are, Randlebury!" And Jim's gruff voice took up the cry too.
A panic set in among the blackguards.

To them it seemed that the school was come in force to rescue their comrade, for on either side the cry rose, and fighting towards them they could, see at any rate two stalwart figures, who, they concluded, were but the leaders of following force.
One of the men was hardy enough to turn at bay at the moment Walcot had cleared his way at last up to the front.

Big bully though he was, he was no match for the well-conditioned, active athlete who faced him, and Walcot punished him in a manner that made him glad enough to take to his heels as fast as he could.
This exploit turned the day.

Dropping Tom--how and where they did not stay to consider--they followed their retreating companion with all the speed they were capable of, and left the enemy without another blow masters of the situation.
But if, as a victory, this charge of the Randlebury boys had been successful, as a rescue it had failed; for Tom Drift, being literally dropped from the shoulders of his executioners, had fallen first on to the parapet of the bridge, and then with a heavy shock into the stony stream beneath.

When Walcot, Joe, Charlie, and Jim among them, went to pull him out, he was senseless.