Then Franklin and Ronald passed her. "I won't give an order," the Captain was saying; "it's a job for volunteers."
"May I have them?" asked the Ensign.
"Yes—six. We can spare no more."
A moment later a clear voice sounded above the clamour, "Attention!"
There was the rush of hurrying feet, an instant's wondering silence, then Ronald spoke. "Boys," he said, "Mrs. Burns has a baby a day old, and there is no one with her but her husband. I'm going after them—who's going with me?"
The soldiers, to a man, rallied around him. "I!" came from every throat. "I'm going!"
"Six only," he said. He quickly selected his men, they snatched up their guns, and, with a warning "hush!" from him, they went to the bateau in which the Mackenzies had crossed.
"Steady!" came Ronald's low voice, then the oars murmured in the water and the heavy gate rumbled into place once more.
Forsyth, stunned by the whirl of events, was leaning on his musket, staring vacantly into space. Across the parade-ground his face appeared to Beatrice in the last flicker of a burnt-out knot. All her pent-up anger returned to her, and, still smarting under the memory of his affront, she left her horse and went over to him.
"Why didn't you go with him?" she demanded.