There was another rush, and another shower of missiles as effective as the last; but this time the men charged on, and gave a moderately effective thump on the great gate; but it was not delivered all together and with a will, for, although a little desperate, the attacking party could not help dodging the potatoes which came thudding against them, and they were confused by the shouts, yells, and the shrieking of the pipes.
But they delivered another stroke, and another, as Tonald yelled again,—
“Fecht, lads, fecht!” and then blew and stamped up and down in a wonderful state of excitement.
Hot water was poured down, potatoes, pails, pots of earthenware flew, and came down with a crash like exploding shells, and the excitement had nearly reached its height, when, in the midst of the storm of missiles thrown, the gate began to yield beneath the blows, and Kenneth was about to shout to his followers to run down and fight inside the gate, whose defenders now were the dogs alone, who barked and growled savagely at every blow.
“Don’t be beaten, lads; never mind their throwing. Keep it up,” cried the bailiff. “Never mind that. Go on. Another, and another, and down she comes.”
Bopp!
But it was not the gate. There was a loud explosion—quite a heavy, echoing report, but the way was not open to the bailiff’s men, and the occupants of Dunroe were not to be evicted that day.
For the attacking party suddenly ceased their efforts, to stand gazing in awe at something which had happened, and then they turned and fled.
Just when the wild confusion was at its height, and attackers and defenders were wild with excitement, the battering-ram threatening, the gates cracking, missiles flying, and both parties shouting with all their might, Donald Dhu was blowing his best, stamping up and down, gazing wildly at the participators in the fray, when in his excitement he stepped upon a loose stone near the edge of the tower, where the crenelation was broken away, slipped, and went headlong down, to fall in a sitting position, and cause the loud report that startled all.
“Oh, poor old Donald! he’s killed!” cried Kenneth, with a cry of anguish, as all the fun of the defence passed away, and he saw himself face to face with a tragedy, whose occurrence had paralysed every one present; the sight of the falling man and the report being followed by a dead silence, which affected even the dogs.