on't interfere. There is nothing to be done but to
behave as little like cowards as we can manage."

"But black-fellows do such--" began Kate.

"Hold your tongue, Kate," said the usually gentle Mrs. Orban, with
sudden anger. "What good can it do to scare yourself and us by
talking in such a way? We are in God's hands, don't forget that."

"Mother," Eustace said, "has father got his revolver away with
him?"

"There are two in this room," Mrs. Orban replied. "Could you use
one if necessary?"

"Oh, for mercy's sake don't let Master Eustace have a gun in his
hands!" said Mary. "There's no saying which of us he might shoot in
mistake if he began playing with one."

"Playing with one!" repeated Eustace scornfully; "why, father says
my shooting is very good for my age."

Mrs. Orban took a revolver from a cupboard and gave it into the
boy's hands.

"It is loaded," she said, and now there was the suspicion of a
quiver in her voice; "but realize I am trusting you to be sensible.
Don't shoot at random. Remember what Bob said last night. You are
only to fire if terribly necessary. Now jump into Becky's bed, or
you will be getting a chill and fever."

From beneath her own pillow she drew out a second revolver,
examined it, and set it on a table within easy reach.

"Mother," said Eustace in surprise, "do you always sleep with a
revolver under your pillow?"

"Only when your father is away," was the reply. "Now, Mary and
Kate, get into my bed. I am going to sit in this cosy chair with
Miss Becky. We will talk and keep the light burning; but it is my
belief nothing more will happen to-night."

The maids obeyed, still looking terrified, and then Mrs. Orban
seated herself, with Becky in her arms, near the table where the
revolver lay.

Thus they prepared to face the remaining hour of darkness,
powerless to do anything, utterly helpless, with nerves strung to
the highest possible pitch, and hearts that beat wildly at every
sound.

CHAPTER V.

THE FIRST SHOT.

Mrs. Orban's words were brave, her whole bearing courageous, but
she was more frightened than she had ever been in her life before.
It is doubtful whether she really believed her own assertion that
nothing more would happen that night, though she tried to. As a
matter of fact her prophecy was correct. Scared by the screams of
the women, the unpleasant guest must have promptly run away. He was
probably alone, and, uncertain as to who was in the house, ha