a little as his grip closed on the haft of his ax, and the cold
star-glint seemed to shine back again from his eyes.

"Bide here if you will," he smiled quietly. "I have my work to do."

And, turning with the word, he strode quickly to the door, just as there
came a great cry from within the place.

CHAPTER XVI.

BRIAN GETS HIS SWORD AGAIN.

Brian pushed the door open, and it gave easily to his fist. Gazing
within he saw the Dark Master standing over the shattered bowl, whose
liquid flowed down toward the hearth and hissed on the embers; plainly,
the Dark Master had seen nothing good in that water, for he had
shattered the bowl with his foot, and his teeth were snarling under his
drooping mustache.

"I am come," said Brian, laughing grimly as he stood in the doorway.

O'Donnell whirled, gripping at his sword.

Now, whether there was magic on the place, as Turlough ever swore, or
whether the opening of the door had made a draft, as Brian thought more
likely, a strange thing happened.

Brian had raised his pistol in his left hand, meaning to kill the Dark
Master without pity in that first moment. Out of the hearth came a great
swirl of ashes and red embers, flying toward the door and closing around
O'Donnell; as Brian pressed the trigger the ashes smote him in a
blinding swirl, and a harsh laugh answered the roar of the pistol.

With a curse Brian cleared his eyes of the light ash and reached with
his ax at the dim figure of the Dark Master, nigh hid with ashes and
powder-smoke. From down the vale came other shots and cries, and he knew
his men had struck on that small camp lying there; but at this O'Donnell
gave him other things to think of.

That was a great fight, for Brian was little used to ax-play and had
much ado to parry the keen thrusts of his own Spanish blade; the roof
was too low to give room for a swing, and when the Dark Master had
lunged him back to the door again, he knew that he had done ill. So with
another bitter curse Brian flung the ax from his hand and ripped out the
long, Irish dagger that hung at his girdle.

For all his wrath he had taken good heed to fling the ax aright, and the
broad flat of it took the Dark Master full in the chest and bore him
back, reeling and shouting for his men. Before he could recover Brian
leaped at him, caught O'Donnell's sword wrist in his left hand, and
aimed a deadly stroke with his _skean_.

The blow went true, but the steel turned aside from