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"Miss Douglas," he said, "will you kindly go into the other room for a minute! They have cut down one of the large posts in the shed and are going to make a battering-ram of it so as to smash in the door. Come this way, all of you. Two on either side. That is right. Fire into them as they charge!" CHAPTER IV HARD PRESSED The half-breeds and Indians, keen and determined as they were to effect an entrance to the house at any costs, were not without considerable foresight and strategy. But their feint failed, and when they did make a rush with their ram two or three of them were picked off. The survivors dropped the ram, and made a dash across the open for the stable. Pasmore telling the others to remain at their loopholes, went to a room at the end of the long passage, Dorothy following him. The rebels must have applied a match to some of the inflammable matter, for in another instant the growing, hissing roar of fire was audible. "It will spread to the house in a few minutes more," remarked the sergeant, quietly, "and I'm afraid that will be the end of it." But he had already seized an axe and was opening the door. "Shut the door after me and go to your father," he exclaimed. "I'll cut down the slabs that connect it with the house. Child-of-Light may come up yet. Good-bye--in case of accidents." She caught him by the arm and looked into his face. "You can't do that--you must _not_ do that! You are sure to be shot down." "And I may be shot if I don't." Forcibly, but with what gentleness the action permitted, he disengaged her firm white hand. "You can't use an axe with that arm," she pleaded, all her old reserve vanishing. "I can at a pinch," he replied. "It is good of you to trouble about me." He slipped out and pulled the door behind him. The look he had seen in her eyes had come as a revelation and given him courage. She stood for a moment speechless and motionless, with a strained, set expression on her face. It was old Rory who aroused her to the gravity of the situation. He came running along the passage. "Come hyar, honey, and into the cellar wid ye," he cried. "There's more of the inimy comin' along the trail, but there's still a chanct. Nivir say die, sez I." As if roused from some horrible dream her feverish energy and readiness of resource returned to her. "Come into the next room," she cried to Rory; "we can see the oil-house from the window. He is ou
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