"It's not safe for her here; I'll try and get you round to the back."
I heard my name called, and ran towards the gate, and there was Mr. Ching looking for me. "Where is Hoffman? Are you all ready to start? We can keep them off for a time," he panted.
I pointed to where Mr. Hoffman was lying. "He's shot through the chest. He's dying. He can't move."
Mr. Ching groaned. "We shall have to stay here till daylight. I can never find my way back without him."
I forgot about the Scotchman.
The last of his bluejackets rushed back through the gate, the other half were swung across, and we were in darkness again, except for the glare over the top of the wall. Bullets were now spattering against the front of the house, and bits of plaster were trickling down, and we knew that the Chinamen from inside must have joined the mob. Mr. Ching rushed off to place his men round the wall, and I went back to Mr. Hoffman. He was trying to pull himself up against the side of the house, and I gave him my right shoulder to lean upon, and we got round to the back like that and to the door; but he couldn't drag himself over the boxes and piles of things heaped there, and lay down with his head on the stone slab, half in and half out of the door.
"Get me some water and bring Sally," he whispered. "I'm finished. God have mercy on me!"
I couldn't see his face—it was so dark—but his voice sounded awful.
I was trembling all over, and scrambled in and called out for Sally. I forgot to call her Miss Hobbs.
She was still in that small room, and I heard her crawling across the floor. I heard the Scotchman and Martin firing out of the window too.