“We rode hard,” he said, “and were in saddle within fifteen minutes after the arrival of your courier. You evidently made a hard fight of it; the house bears testimony to a terrible struggle. We are rejoicing to learn that Lieutenant Caton was merely stunned; we believed him dead at first, and he is far too fine a fellow to go in that way.”
“He is truly living, then?” I exclaimed, greatly relieved. “Miss Minor, to whom he is engaged, is sorrowing over his possible fate in the library yonder. Could not two of your men assist him to her? She would do more to hasten his recovery than any one.”
“Certainly,” was the instant response. “Haines, you and McDonald get the officer out of the front room; carry him in there where the ladies are, and then rejoin us.”
His face darkened as the men designated departed on their errand.
“I really require all the force I possess,” he said doubtfully. “It seems impossible to dislodge those rascals back yonder. What we need is a field howitzer.”
“I have been wondering at the firing; pretty lively, isn't it? Have some of those fellows made a stand?”
“Yes; quite a crowd of them have succeeded in barricading themselves in the kitchen, and it is so arranged as to prove an exceedingly awkward place to attack. We have had three men hit already, in spite of every precaution, and I am seeking now to discover some means of forcing their position from the hall. Their leader appears to be a bullet-headed Dutchman about as easy to manage as a mule.”
The words aroused me to a possibility.
“A Dutchman, you say? and in the kitchen? Have you had sight of the fellow?”
“Merely a glimpse, and that over a rifle-barrel. He has a round, dull face, with a big flat nose.”