“Have they sufficient men, then, to cover thoroughly all four sides?” I asked.
“To the best of my judgment there must be fully two hundred and fifty in the gang, and apparently they operate under strict military discipline. It is a revelation to me, Wayne, of the growing power of these desperate fellows. I knew they were becoming numerous and bold, but this surpasses anything I could imagine. More, they are being constantly recruited by new arrivals. A party of at least a dozen came in while I was hiding behind the stables. I heard them asking for the leader.”
“What did they call him?”
“Lory, or Laurie, something like that. They claimed to be deserters from Lee's army, but two or three of them wore our uniforms.”
“It's Red Lowrie,” I said gravely, more impressed than ever with the seriousness of the situation. “I heard of him two years ago—he killed a man in the Sixth North Carolina, and took to the hills. Since then he has developed into quite a leader for such scum, and has proven himself a merciless monster. You have no suggestion to offer as to how we had better attempt to get in?”
He shook his head despondingly.
“What station does Brennan defend?” I asked.
“The front of the house; the main point of attack has been there.”
We could distinguish the sound of firing by this time, and its continuous volume convinced me that Caton's estimate of the number engaged was not greatly overdrawn. As we topped the summit of the hill a great burst of red fire leaped suddenly high into the sky.
“Great God, Wayne! we are too late!” he cried wildly. “Those devils have fired the house.”