In the saloon where we were, we had laid out upon a table the arms and ammunition we were using, or might have to use. My lord had no pistol with him since he carried always his sword, but Mr. Kinchella possessed one as, since the practice of carrying arm's had long since become universal in the colonies, not even clergymen went now without them--the Indians being no respecters of persons. Then there were my pistol and Mary's, which Gregory and my father had taught us to use and grow accustomed to, so that we could shoot a pear hanging on a tree--though now our tremblings and excitement were so great that 'twas doubtful if we could hit a man's body; and, for the rest, we had gathered together all the firearms in the house. To wit, there were my father's birding pieces as well as muskets for large balls, several blunderbusses and musquetoons, and some brass horse-pistols. Yet, as we asked each other, of what avail would these or, indeed, any defence be which we could make if once the Indians advanced to our doors in large numbers. Outside--the place he had selected, leaving Lord St. Amande and Mr. Kinchella to be our immediate bodyguard--was O'Rourke in command of the overseers (who supposed him to be either a friend of the family or of one of the two gentlemen) and of some of the other bondsmen, and he was indefatigable in his exertions. He and they kept up a continual fire on the foe from their positions behind trees or under the porch, or from the stables in the rear, while, horrible to relate, as each shot was seen to be successful it was greeted by oaths of delight and dreadful cries; and, besides their shooting, they had also laid mines of gunpowder which would be exploded when the Indians advanced. Indeed, as Lord St. Amande remarked as he noticed this through the light-holes of the shutters, or went out himself to assist the others from time to time, whatever O'Rourke's past villainies had been he was this night going far towards effacing them. "The fellow," he said, coming back to us after one of these visits outside, when I nearly fainted at seeing blood trickling down his forehead--he having been grazed by a bullet--"the fellow spoke truly when he said he was no coward at least. He exposes his burly body everywhere fearlessly, though these savages have learned to use their weapons with marvellous precision and scarcely miss a shot. But just now he caught one of them creeping through the grass to get nearer us, and, wrenching his tomahawk from him, beat out his brains."