t they said, but
it was evident that the surveyor was a man of some conscience and could
not see such murderous actions without striving to put Halpen in better
mind. But the latter shook him off in rage and loaded his gun again. The
house was now surrounded by the four armed men and the three
understrappers were only waiting Halpen's command to fire.

"Shall I shoot him? shall I shoot him?" cried Bryce, from the loft.

"Hold your fire!" commanded Enoch. "You may have blood on your hands
yet, if you be not careful."

"But he fired at you."

"And a poor job he made of it. We will not fire unless we are forced
to."

His mother said never a word. She went into her chamber again and with
the girls and little Harry crouched upon the bed. But she glanced
frequently from the loophole to observe the movements of the Yorker upon
that side of the clearing.

By and by Halpen raised his voice and addressed the besieged. "Open the
door and come out, or we will batter it down. And it will go hard with
you then, I warrant! If you give up the place peaceably you may cart
away your household stuff and the cattle and hogs. I'll not be too hard
on you."

"If you come near this door I will send a bullet through your black
heart!" was Enoch's reply, poking the muzzle of his rifle through the
loophole beside which he stood.

The widow came running from the chamber. "Enoch! Enoch!" she cried, in
horror. "Would you kill him?"

"He killed my father!" cried the boy, before he thought what explanation
of his secret suspicions that remark might necessitate.

"The child is mad!" she murmured, after staring at him a full minute.
"You do not know what you say, Enoch. Master Halpen had naught to do
with your poor father's death."

But Enoch had not to reply. A cry came from Bryce in the loft. "Look at
that! Look at that!" he shouted, with excitement. "I just will shoot
him!"

And then his old musket spoke. There was a yell from without. Enoch
thought Simon Halpen himself had been shot, but the Yorker only ran
around the end of the cabin to where one of his men stood howling like a
wolf, and holding on to his swinging arm.

"I've broke his arm!" declared Bryce, proudly, coming to the head of the
ladder. "He was flinging blazing clods on the roof."

"What shall we do?" gasped the mother. "My boys will be murderers."

"I'll kill them all before they'll harm you, mother," declared young
Bryce, very proud indeed that he had hit the mark