“No,” said Don; “I shall go with you men.”
“Brayvo, Mas’ Don!” whispered Jem. “What a while they are opening that door! We shall be roasted, my lad, after all, and these wretches ’ll pick our bones.”
The door was flung open, and the enemy uttered a yell of delight as the little party of whites ran out of the burning house.
“Now, women!” cried Gordon.
“No: stop!” roared Don.
Crash!
A heavy volley from the right, and the besiegers made a rush for the left.
Crash!
A heavy volley met them on the left, fired diagonally from half behind the blazing house.
Then there was a cheer, echoed by a second, and two parties of blue-jackets were in among the Maoris, who fled, leaving half their number wounded and prisoners on the ground, while Don and his friends helped the women out into the open, away from the signs of bloodshed, which looked horrible in the light from the blazing house.