to force me against
the wall; but the Turco, with his shrill, wolf-like battle yelp,
attacked them, sabre-bayonet in hand. Speed, too, had wrested a rifle
from a half-stupefied ruffian, and now stood at bay before the
Countess; I saw him wielding his heavy weapon like a flail; then in
the darkness Tric-Trac shot at me, so close that the powder-flame
scorched my leg. He dropped his rifle to spring for my throat,
knocking me flat, and, crouching on me, strove to strangle me; and I
heard him whining with eagerness while I twisted and writhed to free
my windpipe from his thin fingers.

At last I tore him from my body and struggled to my feet. He, too, was
on his legs with a bound, running, doubling, dodging; and at his heels
I saw a dozen sailors, broadaxes glittering, chasing him from tree to
shrub.

"Speed!" I shouted--"the sailors from the _Fer-de-Lance_!"

The curtains of the house were on fire; through the hallway poured the
insurgent soldiery, stampeding in frantic flight across the court out
into the moors; and the marines, swarming along the cliffs, shot at
them as they ran, and laughed savagely when a man fell into the gorse,
kicking like a wounded rabbit.

Speed marked their flight, advancing coolly, pistol flashing; the
Turco, Ben-Ahmed, dark arms naked to the shoulder, bounded behind the
frightened wretches, cornering, hunting them through flower-beds and
bushes, stealthily, keenly, now creeping among the shadows, now
springing like a panther on his prey, until his blue jacket reeked and
his elbows dripped.

I had picked up a rifle with a broken bayonet; the Countess, clasping
my left arm, stood swaying in the rifle-smoke, eyes closed; and, when
a horrid screeching arose from the depths of the garden where they
were destroying Tric-Trac, she fell to shuddering, hiding her face on
my shoulder.

Suddenly Speed appeared, carrying a drenched little figure, partly
wrapped in a sailor's pea-jacket, slim limbs drooping, blue with
cold.

"Put out that fire in there," he said, hoarsely; "we must get her
into bed. Hurry, for God's sake, Scarlett! There's nobody in the
house!"

"Jacqueline! Jacqueline! brave little Bretonne," murmured the
Countess, bending forward and gathering the unconscious child into her
strong, young arms.

Through the dim dawn, through smoke and fading torch-light, we carried
Jacqueline into the house, now lighted up with an infernal red from
the burning dining-room.

"The house is st