"Three kilt, an' maybe a dozen wounded. Oi got chipped up myself, but only the skin av me. Those lads come up fierce, sorr, an' they'd 'a' made it too, only fer our ravolvers. We must have shot a dozen of 'em right in the winders." "And the rest of the house--do you know how they came out?" "Oi do, sorr; Oi've made the rounds. There's one man shot in the kitchen, but nobody got hurted up stairs." "And our men?" I asked eagerly. "From those upper windows did you see any sign of troops down in the ravine?" He shook his head. "Not a domn thing, sorr." I looked into the faces clustered around us--blackened, savage faces, still marked by the fierce animalism of battle--feeling to the full the desperation of our position. "Well, lads," I said soberly, "there is no use hiding the truth from you. I know you'll fight to the end, and that won't be long coming, unless help gets here. We can never repulse another assault; we've got eight men killed, and more than that wounded now--the next time we'll all go. What do you say--shall we hold on, hoping?" "Oi'm fer doin' it, sorr," broke in Mahoney, "an' Oi'm spakin' fer ivery Irishmon in H troop." "And you, Miles?" "I'm not so bloomin' fond of a fight, Lieutenant," he said, scratching his head, "but I like to stay fighting after I once get started. Ain't that about the size of it, boys?" Several heads nodded, and one fellow growled, "Hell! we kin giv' 'em the same dose a third time." "I don't expect that, Sims," I returned. "But those other fellows ought to be up any minute now. Anyway we'll have a breathing spell, for the Johnnies must have had enough to last them a few minutes. How is the ammunition?" "'Bout twenty rounds apiece left." "Then get to work, men; load up and strengthen every weak spot. We'll put up the best show we can. What did you want, Foster?" The man addressed, a slim, awkward fellow, his spindle legs conspicuous under the short cavalry jacket, jerked off his cap in embarrassment. "Why nuthin' much, sir," he stammered. "I ain't no objections to goin' on with the fightin', only if we're so sartain to catch hell it don't seem exactly right fer us to keep that thar young gal here in the house. She ain't no combatant, sir, an' dern me if I don't think she ought to be got outside first." "Girl! What girl?" I cried, believing I must have misunderstood. "What is it you are trying to say, man?" The soldier jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. "The one in thar behind the stairs," he explained slowly. "Tom Ragan he made her go thar when the rumpus begun, an' then Tom he got killed. Ain't that the way of it, Talbot?" "Sure," chimed in the other. "It is the same one that was in the parlor last night, sir. She don't seem scared, ner nuthin' like that, only Ragan told her she'd got to stay thar. I heard 'em talkin', an' she said she wanted you." "What did Ragan answer?" now thoroughly aroused to the knowledge this must be Billie.