For a minute or so, this fatal and unexpected catastrophe stunned them. They looked upon each other amazed and apparently stupefied, “What,” cried Sharpe, “is Harpur dead?” Two of them then placed their arms against the wall in order to ascertain the exact nature of the injury inflicted.
At this moment, Sharpe, who saw at once the man was indeed lifeless, raised his gun about to take aim at Raymond, when a blow from Harman felled him to the earth.
“And here's for your kindness, Mister Harman,” shouted Steele; but ere the words were uttered, O'Regan's wife threw herself upon him so effectually, that he felt it impossible to avail himself of his fire-arms.
“Fight now,” she shouted in Irish, “it is for your lives—it is for the widow—for the orphan—for the bed of death—and the dead that's upon it—fight now—for God will be with us! May his strength and power be in your arms and your hearts, prays the woeful widow this day! Villain—villain,” she shouted, “I have you powerless now—but it's the strength of God that is in me, and not my own!”
The conflict that ensued now was bitter, savage, deadly. The moment Sharpe was knocked down, Raymond flew to their firearms, handed one to Harman, and kept the other himself. The men who used them were fierce, and powerful, and cruel. In a moment a furious contest took place. The four men immediately grappled, each one attempting to wrest the gun from his antagonist. Raymond, whose passions were now roused so as to resemble the ravenous fury of madness itself, at one time howled like a beast of prey, and shouted, and screamed, and laughed with maniac wildness that was enough to make almost any heart quail. His eyes blazed, his figure dilated, his muscles stood out, his mouth was white with froth, and his eyebrows were knit into a deep and deadly scowl. Altogether his appearance was frightful and appalling.
Harman was still better matched, and the struggle with his foe was for some time doubtful enough, the latter being one of the strongest and most resolute men in the whole parish. A powerful tug for the gun now took place, each pulling in opposite directions with all his might. At length a thought struck Harman, who all at once let the gun go, when the other having no longer any resisting power to sustain him, fell back upon the floor, and in an instant Harman's knee was on his chest and the gun in his possession. The man ground his teeth, and looking up into his face with a black scowl of hatred, exclaimed—
“It is your turn now, but I will have mine.”
“You have had yours too long, villain,” replied the other, “but in the mean time I will teach you to respect the bed of death and the afflictions of the widow.”
Saying which, he vigorously applied the butt of the gun to his ribs, until he had rendered him anything but disposed for further conflict.
Both victories were achieved much about the same time; Raymond's opponent being far the more severely punished of the two. “What, however, was their surprise after each had expelled his man from the cabin, to find Steele down, his gun lying on one side. O'Regan's wife fastened on his throat, and himself panting and almost black in the face!