Pasmore had cut off the house from the burning shed by hewing down the connecting wall, while Dorothy Douglas and Rory, by firing from a side window, had kept the enemy from approaching; After what seemed an age, Pasmore rejoined them.
There was a pause in the firing, then a hoarse murmur of excited voices came from the sheds. It rose like a sudden storm on the Lake of the Winds. There was a wild volley and a rush of feet. A dark body smashed in the casement and tried to follow it, but Rory's long knife gleamed in the air, and the intruder fell back in his death agony. Rory seldom wasted powder and shot at close quarters. The sergeant looked at the girl strangely.
"Come with me to your father," he said hoarsely.
"Is it the end?" she asked.
"I fear it is," he replied; "but we'll fight to the finish."
He opened the door and led the way out.
"I must go to the others," he continued. "Rory can guard this end of the house. Will you come with me?"
"Yes, and remember your promise—I am not afraid."
"I am," he admitted, "but not of them."
They reached the kitchen, but he would not let her enter.