But very little indeed did Big Archie care for her commands; it was another consideration altogether that at this moment caused himself and his companions to pause. For the fugitives, as soon as they gained the beach, had taken refuge behind two boats drawn up there; and as the boats, with their spars and sails astern, and their lobster-creels and barrels at the bow, offered excellent shelter, while the beach afforded unlimited ammunition, the battle was not yet over. In truth, the stones that were now flying through the air decidedly checked the ardour of the pursuers; and it was at this moment that Mary again got up to Gilleasbuig Mòr. "Archie!" she said, indignantly. An accidental stone struck her on the shoulder. She did not mind. But another and a sharper one struck her on the wrist; and inadvertently she drew up her hand with a piteous little cry. She had been cut over the bone; blood was flowing profusely; and at sight of that, Big Archie—his eyes blazing with wrath—seemed to go mad altogether. "Aw, _Dyeea_!" he cried; and he ran forward and leapt into the boat, on to the middle thwart; he sprang out on the other side; and began to lay about him with his cudgel as with the hammer of Thor, smiting and scattering his enemies in all directions. But she was after him in a moment—nimbly getting round the stern of the boat—and before he had wholly wreaked his vengeance, she had him by the arm. And here her interposition did save bloodshed; for the men, finding her between Big Archie and themselves, refused to throw the stones they had hastily picked up; quietude was secured at least in this corner of the battlefield. But indeed the general interest had already been attracted elsewhere. When Mary turned to see what was going on landwards, she happened to notice certain small wavering shreds of pink. It was a very pale pink; on a clear day, it would hardly have been visible; but against the lurid sky it was distinct enough. "What is that?" she said, with a sudden, conscious fear, to Big Archie. The huge, heavy-shouldered fisherman (who was keeping an eye on his discomfited foes as he led the way round the stern of the boats) glanced towards the rocky knolls that had been the scene of the first onslaught, and said grimly,— "It wass the Gillie Ciotaeh he wass bringing a can of petroleum with him this morning, and lobster-creels will be easy to set on fire." "Do you mean to say they are burning down those poor men’s huts?" she demanded, in a perfect agony of helplessness. "Archie, what is to be done? Why does not the policeman interfere?" "Aw, it is no use now," said Big Archie, with much composure. "They are ahl on fire already—and a good job, too!—for we won the fight, and that is a proper end to it." "And this is how you have kept your promise to me!" Mary said, in accents of bitter reproach.