"Ye won't be leaving me!" she cried to us.
"You must remain under cover, my dear," said my uncle kindly. "'Twould distress all of us had we to be concerned for your safety."
"'Tis not lead or steel I will be fearful of," says she, "but the cruel memories that do be creeping from the treasure boxes. My troth, I'd liefer be here in the open than within."
My great-uncle hesitated, plainly exasperated by her persistence in remaining outside.
"Where is Gunn?" he asked.
"Oh, him!"
Moira's laughter trilled as lightly as if there were no messengers of death in the air.
"He's where ye would have put me first—under the treasure. And he's welcome to it."
"Be that as it may," he snapped, giving rein to his exasperation, "here you shall not stay, my lass, and we are pressed——"
A great roar of firing burst out upon the northern front of the stockade, and mingled with the reports of the muskets were shouts of: