"Gorra mighty! I shot out my ramrod. I seen a good chance, and blazed away 'fore I thought to take it out. It went through six of 'em, and stuck into a tree and hung 'em fast. Heigh! it's fun to see 'em."
"Here, take mine, and for God's sake, cease your jesting!" said Leland, handing his rod to him.
"Wish I could string some more up," added Zeb, as he rammed home his charge. "Yer oughter seen it, Miss Rosa. It went right frough de fust feller's eye, and den frough de oder one's foot, den frough de oder's gizzard, and half way frough de tree. Gorra, how dey wriggled! Looked just like a lot of mackerel hung up to dry. Heigh!"
At this point Leland discharged his gun, and said, without changing his position:
"They are trying to approach the house. Go, Zeb, and attend to your side. Be very sharp!"
"Yes, I's dar, stringing 'em up," he rejoined, as he turned away.
"Hark!" exclaimed Rosalind, when he had gone. "What noise is that?"
Leland listened awhile, and his heart died within him as he answered:
"Merciful Heaven! the house is on fire! All hope is now gone!"
"Shall we give ourselves up?" hurriedly asked Rosalind.