“Hurt enough, lieutenant—bad enough. No more grist ground at that mill. But hold in—don’t be frightened; you can beat ’em yet. Ah!” he groaned, in a mortal agony.
They composed his limbs, and pouring some spirits down his throat, he recovered in a few moments, and convulsively said,
“When I die——”
“Die, indeed!—don’t think of such a thing,” said Garnet, sadly.
“Yes,” said the brave smith, “it has come to that at last. I feel it. I have done my duty like a man, and am content to die.”
After a very brief struggle the gallant fellow breathed his last.
“Avenge him! Avenge him!” Ned Warbeck cried.
“Follow me,” shouted Lieutenant Garnet.
With loud shouts, and amid a storm of shot and other missiles showered down upon them, three separate parties of stormers under the leadership of Ned Warbeck, Garnet, and Bob Bertram, assailed the burning stronghold.
On every side the flames were now burning, and illuminated the darkness of the night.