"All our partings have to be made now. See how they bulge that shutter inwards. There will be a score of savages in the room in a moment! Farewell, Joice, my darling; farewell, Miss Mills. Old friend," and he put his hand lovingly on Kinchella's shoulder; "farewell. And for you, O'Rourke," looking round at him, "well, tonight's work--especially your night's work--wipes all the past out of my mind for ever. O'Rourke," and he held out his hand, "let us part in peace." At first O'Rourke made no reply but stood regarding the other as though dazed, and then raised his hand to his head, so that my lover exclaimed, "You are badly hurt. Is that wound in your head worse than it appears?" "No, no," O'Rourke answered, speaking slowly, though he kept his eye ever fixed on the window, waiting for the inrush that was now at hand; "but it seems to me that the end--my end--is near. I have had these presentiments come over me often of late--it may be to-night, now in a moment--God He knows! And when Gerald St. Amande holds out his hand in forgiveness to me, it must be---- Ah, well, at least you shall see I will die fighting--yes, die fighting"; and, as he spoke, he clasped Gerald's hand in his and thanked God that he had lived to have it extended to him. Then, once again, he asked his pardon for all the evil he had wrought him. And now there came in Buck and Lamb and the other bondsmen and convicts--though no longer either bondsmen or convict-servants if they could live through this dreadful night--for they were useless upstairs any longer. With them came the mastiffs who had replaced those poisoned; fierce beasts, who seemed to scent the Indians they were trained to fight and whose eyes glared savagely at the windows to which they ran, while they stooped their great heads to the bodies of the dead ones lying inside the sill and sniffed at their already fast congealing blood.[2] And the deep bays that they sent up, and which rang through the beleaguered house, seemed for the moment to have had its effect outside. For, during that moment, the yells of the foe ceased and the rushes against the iron-bound shutters ceased also, but only for a moment. "What!" exclaimed Buck, catching some of O'Rourke's words, "die fighting, my noble captain! Ay, so I should say; or rather, fight and live. What! We have seen fighting in our day before," whereon he winked at the other, "but never in so good a cause as this for our gentle mistress. And if we do die fighting," he went on, as coolly as though death was not within an ace of us all now, "why, dam'me, 'tis better than the cart and a merry dance in the chains afterwards on a breezy common. So cheer up, my noble, and let's at 'em. Ha, ha! here they come!" As he spoke, with a crash the shutters came in at last and, through the open space they left in their fall, there swarmed the hideous foe, while with a scream Mary and I flung ourselves into each other's arms.