helpless
prisoner to within a few feet of our fortress. Then, to the increase of
our indignation, they flung him forward with brutal oaths, so that he
fell grovelling on his injured face just in front of our doorway, and
while he lay prone one of the ruffians dealt him a kick which made him
groan like a dog. After they had done this the two red-jackets drew back
a few paces and waited, according to the agreement, laughing the while
at the plight of the clergyman.

In a moment, obedient to a word from Lancelot, a dozen hands lifted
the beam and swung the door back. Lancelot sprang forward, followed hard
by me, to succour our unhappy friend; and between us we lifted him from
the ground, though with some effort, for he seemed quite helpless and
senseless with his ill-treatment and the fall, and unable to give us
the least aid in supporting him. Jensen's two brutes jeered at us for
our pains, bidding us mind our sermon-grinder and the like, with many
expletives that I shall not set down. Indeed, their speech and behaviour
so discredited their mission that it would have jeopardised their
safety, for all their flag of truce, with a commander of less
punctiliousness than Lancelot. But he, without paying heed to their
mutterings, propped the prisoner up stoutly, and carried him, huddled
and trailing, toward the stockade. As we moved him he moaned feebly,
and kept up this moaning as we carried him inside the stockade and drew
him toward the most sheltered corner to lay him down.

My heart bled for the parson in his weakness, with his head all swathed
in bloody bandages, and I shuddered to think what his face would be
like when we took off those coverings. I turned to pile some coats
together for him to rest upon, but I was still looking at him as he hung
helpless against Lancelot, when, in a breath, before my astounded eyes,
the limp form stiffened, and Mr. Ebrow, stiff and strong, flung himself
upon Marjorie and caught her in his arms. Quickly though the act was
done, I still had time to think that Mr. Ebrow's calamities had turned
his brain, and to feel vexation at the increase to our difficulties with
a mad-man in our midst. In the next instant I saw that Mr. Ebrow was
squatting on the ground behind Marjorie, sheltered by her body, which he
held pinioned to his with his left arm, while his right hand held a
pistol close to her forehead. Then a voice that was not the voice of Mr.
Ebrow called out that Marjorie was his prison