d, Jared, that it's no time
to throw away any powder."

"I don't propose to waste my ammunition," muttered the New Englander,
as he stepped softly into the rear apartment.

Only a slight reflection from the fire on the hearth found its way into
that part of the house, which had no window; but by the dim light Jared
Long saw a dusky figure come rapidly from the door toward him. He was
on the point of raising his gun, when it spoke:

"It's me--Bippo."

"I thought you had left. Why didn't you go?"

"Love my white folks--can't leave 'em, stay die wid 'em."

This sounded very fine, but the New Englander was incredulous. He
believed that their servant was more afraid to leave than to stay. He
had probably taken a look outside and decided that he was safer under
the shelter of those three Winchesters (for the weapon of poor Aaron
Johnston was still in the possession of his friends).

Long was inclined to ask him to take charge of the extra rifle, and use
it in helping to defend themselves; but, recalling the antipathy of the
fellow against handling firearms, he decided that he would only throw
away his cartridges.

He, therefore, cautioned him to keep out of the reach of any of the
missiles that were likely to come flying into the apartment, and urged
him, in case he saw any opening, to dart out among the people and do
his best to escape.

Professor Grimcke firmly believed that the impending fight would be to
the death, and that the only issue would be the slaying of himself and
companion. It was the same danger they had faced many times, with the
difference that this was to be the last.

He surveyed his surroundings, like a general making ready to receive
the assault of a foe, and die fighting in the last ditch.

There was the door in front and the two windows, through which the
attack could be made. He could cover all three with his repeating
rifle, and, when the last struggle came, appeal to his revolver and
knife. He smiled, grimly at the reflection, that he had every ground
for believing, that the victory of the Murhapas would prove the most
costly they had ever won. Jared Long was his equal in markmanship and
coolness, and, as he coolly remarked, there would be no ammunition
wasted, by either.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

BESIEGERS AND BESIEGED.

Suddenly a bushy bead, with a black face, horribly distorted by
passion, appeared at the window furthest from where Professor Grimcke
was standing.

The