er land men under the guns of Bertragh.

About noon the snow fell less thickly, though the storm had risen to
great power, and Brian made out that the Scots were bringing forward
that cannon of theirs. Having some little knowledge of artillery
himself, he drew the charge of bullets from a bastard and put in more
powder, then put the bullets back, a full bag of them. He did the same
with two more of the bastards on that wall, and when the Scots had
halted aimed all three very carefully, and set men by them to fire at
his order. The Scots were turning their cannon about, a score of men
being in their party, and Brian judged that they were eight hundred
paces away--just within range of his bastards.

"The Dark Master lost this hold because he had too many men," he said to
Turlough, "and we shall lose it because we have too few; but we will
make better use of these shot than did he. Fire, men!"

The three men brought down their linstocks and ran for it, having seen
that extra charge of powder set in the cannon. But none of the pieces
burst, though they roared loud enough and leaped at their recoil-ropes
like mad things. When the white smoke shredded down the wind, Brian's
men yelled in great delight, for those Scots and horses about the cannon
were stricken down or fleeing, and the piece had not yet been loaded.

"They will get little joy of that cannon," said Brian grimly, and went
in to meat.

During the rest of the day the cannon stood there silent, dead horses
and men around it; nor was any further attack made. Brian knew well that
having found him prepared, the Dark Master would now attack at night and
hard did Brian pray that the storm might abate from the west, or at
least shift around, so that Nuala's ships could come to his aid.

Instead, the gale only swooped down the wilder, and seemed like to hold
a day or more, as indeed it did. About mid-afternoon Turlough came and
beckoned him silently out to the rear or seaward battlement and pointed
out.

No words passed between the two men, nor were any needed; beating around
the southern headland were four flecks of white that Brian knew for
ships coming from the west with the storm, and he saw that for once the
Dark Master had told the truth.

"I have some skill at war," he said to Turlough that afternoon when they
had seen the four ships weather past them and anchor a mile up the bay;
"and since the Dark Master's troopers are also skilled at that game,
they wil