ss, shouting to those behind,

"Come on, lads! Come on! We're driving them!"

A yard, two yards, three,--beyond the door where the men had escaped we
won our way. Then they could go no further. Blocked, unable to retreat,
wedged helplessly against the far end of the hall they turned like
cornered rats. I could see nothing of Jones, but I heard him, raging like
a fiend.

"Now, you curs, now!" he stormed. "You cowardly scum--perhaps you'll
fight when you can't run! What are you afraid of? There's only a handful,
you can chew 'em up, if you will! Push 'em back, there! Push 'em back!"

With a yell of rage, those crushed against the wall hurtled forward,
driving the others; men were lifted and hurled at us; others gripped at
our feet; by sheer force of numbers they swept us backward. It was hand
to hand, neither side having time to reload their weapons. The smoke
rose, permitting a view of the shambles. There was a tangle of arms, a
jumble of faces. They were maddened beasts, desperate, revengeful. Hands
clutched at us, gun butts were thrust into our faces, the crush too dense
to permit of their being swung overhead. My Dragoons had their sabres
out, and stood to it like men, the steel blades dripping as they tasted
blood. But killing one only brought a new man to the front. One does not
see so much as feel in such a jumble. Yet I knew we were worsted,
outnumbered. They came at us like a battering ram. I saw the sergeant
shot through the forehead; I saw Eric go down beneath a crushing stroke,
and roll under my feet. I stepped on bodies, fighting for my own life as
I never fought before. Somewhere I had gripped a gun out of dead fingers,
and swung it savagely, smashing the stock at the first blow, but
retaining the twisted iron. The intensity of excitement seemed to clear
my brain. I began to distinguish voices, to notice faces. I heard Grant
yell safely in the rear; I heard Jones's roar, "To hell with 'em! To hell
with 'em!" Out of the murk of struggling figures I made out his black
beard, the gleam of yellow fangs, and leaped toward him, striking men
down until I was able to swing at his head. He went over like a stricken
ox under a butcher's axe, knocking aside two men as he fell. It gave me
chance to spring back out of the _melee_.

"To the stairs, men! The stairs!" I cried. "We can hold them there!"

I cannot describe now how we made it, but we did. I only know Tom and I
held the rear, sweeping circles of death with