“What do you make of that, Orme? your eyes are younger than mine, but if I do not mistake they are about to carry off the guns.” “You are right,” said Gervase. “One they have already carried past the farmhouse, and are preparing to do the same with the other. And the foot are coming down in force to their support.” “Let them come. We are still in time, and will not turn for twenty regiments. Now, my sons, bend to it with a will.” Already they were met with a dropping musket fire which sent the bullets singing about their ears and splashed up the water round them, but they held on stoutly and redoubled their efforts. The enemy had been taken by surprise. They had not dreamt that so small a force, in the light of open day, would have ventured to make so hazardous an attempt. But they were now undeceived, and made their preparations to receive their visitors. They were dragging off the guns to a place of safety, and three companies of foot were lining the hedge that ran parallel with the bank. Then the bow of the boat grated on the beach, and the men of the garrison leaped into the water, holding their muskets above their heads. Without waiting for their comrades who were straining every nerve to come up to their support, they clambered up the bank, and rushed at the hedge where the red-coats showed through the green foliage. As they came up they fired a volley, and clubbing their muskets, came crashing through the thorns with the spirit of men who would not be denied. The fight was short but stubborn. Foot by foot the defenders of the hedge were driven back, and then as the men of the second boat came up, they broke and fled. The guns were now being hurried down the road, and every moment the chance of overtaking them grew less. The delay caused by that bold stand was fatal. But still the assailants kept pressing on, hoping that they would be in time to reach the guns before they were intercepted. As they came up the gunners abandoned the pieces, but it was too late now to wait to spike them. Already a strong force was drawing between them and the boats, and it was with a bitter sense of failure that they turned their faces towards the river, and prepared to cut their way back again. The odds were four to one against them. It seemed as if they had been caught in a trap of their own making. From every clump of bushes flashed the blaze of the muskets, and here one and there another went down in his tracks.