Outside, on the plain, Hall McIvor lay limp where he had dropped at the first fatal volley; but Sharps, groaning and grunting like a huge, wounded bear, was clawing the earth with his hands. He did not call out, but inched feebly towards the house, and Winchester turned away. The men on the hill were letting Sharps live in order to trap both him and Bill; for before they could reach Sharps the Scarboroughs would shoot them down, and then they would finish him. It was a part of their system, figured out to a nicety, but Winchester and Bill did not go out. They stayed by their loop-holes, searching the hill-top for some movement that would reveal the cunning ambush of the enemy.
The sun came out hot and Sharps sank back exhausted; his black head heaved, and he was dead. Of all the Bassetts, the Scarboroughs had feared him most, and now that he was gone they hooted. Winchester and Bill, by their loop-holes inside the house, still watched the hillside, so ominously barren of life; but not a man moved and they did not fire a cartridge, for they would need them all, if they lived. They were outnumbered and surrounded, and when night fell their enemies would creep down close. They would slip up to the house, which two men could not guard, and fire it or break down the door; and then the Bassetts, if they lived that long, might hope to avenge their dead.
In the corner old Susie sat swaying back and forth while she mourned over the body of her husband, and at the loop-hole by the door Allifair gazed out through her tears at the form which had once been her lover. He lay on his face in a shallow hole, where the hogs in rooting had dug out a wallow in a slight depression in the ground. Her first madness was gone now and she knew better than to go near him; for before she could rush out and bring in his body they would riddle it again with bullets. It was better to wait, though it wrung her heart to do so, until night should bring its black shroud, and then she could go forth and take him in her arms and weep out the anguish in her breast.
She closed her eyes in prayer—though for what she did not know, since all that she lived for was lost—but as she looked out again she thought she saw his body move, his hand draw slowly back! She stepped to the door, which had been barred against her, and pulled it open to see. Yes, his body had moved, but at the snouting of a huge hog which even now was grunting in his face!
With a cry she flung the heavy door wide open and dashed out to save his dear body. To be mangled by hogs, and within sight of those who loved him—her anger swept her forth before she knew it. So swiftly did she run that she had reached down and caught him up before the first shot rang out, and, knowing their purpose, she shielded him with her body while the bullets smashed spitefully all about her. They were trying to frighten her, to make her drop her burden or expose him to a last vengeful shot, but the blood of Southern feudists ran strong in her veins and she faced the hill disdainfully. Then, as she gathered him closer and started for the house, the storm of bullets ceased. Winchester and Bill had marked down their men and their rifles were clearing the hill.
She dragged him through the doorway and sank down, half-fainting—and when she came to he was alive. Alive and smiling, though with grim lines about his mouth and a terrible intentness in his eyes.
"My sweetheart," he murmured, stooping to kiss her once more, and then he lifted her up. Yes, her lover who had been dead, had come back to life, to cherish and protect her still; and asking no questions she drew down his head and tried to kiss the anger from his eyes.