As our defences seemed to be most needed at the front of the house, I sent the lad Walter to fetch Humphrey Stirk from his post overlooking the fold, and Gregory from the courtyard window. There were now five of us in the corridor, and to each man I assigned a window, bidding all to shoot straight, and keep under cover as closely as was possible. “And since we’re all ready,” says I, raising my voice, and presenting my piece, “pick your man, lads, and let them have it.” And therewith, keeping behind the wall as well as I could, I knocked out a pane of glass, and took aim at Holdsworth, who was directing operations, partly covered by a tree. The others fired at the same time, and almost on the instant there came back a volley from the enemy, and the garden, from the high wall to our windows was filled with smoke that hung heavy in the damp air. And after that there was no need for us to knock out more panes of glass when we wished to point our muskets, for with the first fusilade the enemy shattered our windows to pieces, and the corridor was strewn with splinters of wood and glass, and fragments of the plaster that came tumbling from the wall behind us. It was on this scene that Mistress Alison’s eyes fell when she suddenly opened the door of my uncle’s chamber, and came hurriedly towards me. “Back, cousin!” says I, rushing to meet her. “Your life----” But she came on, holding out her hands to me. “Quick!” she says. “Oh, be quick, cousin!” And then I knew what she meant, and threw aside my musket, and with a hasty cry to my men to stand to their posts I took her hand and hastened with her into Sir Nicholas’s room. Faith! in the days that came afterwards I have often thought, always with a deal of softness, of the good old knight’s death-bed. He lay there, very straight and calm, with me on one side of him, and Alison on t’other, and poor old Barbara, weeping and bemoaning him, at his feet, and thanks to the stout door and the heavy curtain the chamber seemed peaceful, and yet through all its peacefulness there came the thump, thump, thump, of the battering ram and the crash and rattle of the musketry. When I first approached him I think he knew naught, but presently a fiercer discharge, that seemed like to bring the old house tumbling about our ears, called him back to life, and he opened his eyes, and looked at me. “Ah!” says he, very feeble and low in voice. “So we are at it, Dick?” There was a sudden flash of fire in his old eyes, and a blot of colour showed itself on his cheek, that had grown thin and pale. He looked at Alison, and from her to me again. Another fierce rattle of musketry came from without, and one bullet, glancing from the casement in the corridor, struck and buried itself in the door of the chamber. My uncle made some faint show of raising himself in his bed. “To thy post, Dick!” says he, and suddenly drops back on his pillow, and died as quietly as a child goes to sleep.