He had his back against the wall and was keeping Makian and his son at bay with the sweep of his long sword. The sight drove the Countess wild: “Two to one!” she shrieked, “ye foul cowards!” “Hold the woman back!” cried Makian; he had no scruples; what chance had they for their lives if the Campbells came? and Breadalbane was before the door. Ronald started at his father’s voice. “Bolt the door!” cried Ian; Ronald obeyed as if he knew not what he did. The Countess dashed forward to stop him and a second time Makian cried: “Hold the woman, Ronald!” This time he turned and caught her by the arm and swung her, not ungently, back. Under his uplifted arm that held her she saw the crossing swords of her husband and Makian, and Ian standing grimly by; she saw Breadalbane hopelessly overmatched and her eyes flashed to the bolted door. “Let me go,” she said in a quick whisper, staring up into his grave troubled face. “Oh—take your hands away!” But he held her as firmly against the castle wall as he had done against the mud hut; again her green eyes glanced in agony at her husband and she writhed in Ronald’s grip: “They’ll kill him,” she said hoarsely. “And you love him?” said Macdonald in Gaelic. For answer she, realizing him in a blaze of fury, struck him full across the face with her free hand; he flushed scarlet but never relaxed his hold of her. There was the sound of steps without and a thundering on the door. “Jock!” cried the Countess, “Jock!” Breadalbane had been forced back into the window-seat; the huge figure of Ian almost hid him from her view; Ronald looked over his shoulder at them. “Jock Campbell is doomed,” he said gravely. “Answer me—do you want him saved?” Even in that moment she was arrested by the serious passion of his face. “Tell me,” he insisted. “What do you think!” she cried fiercely. “Yes or no?” said Ronald. With a wrench the answer came from her: “God in Heaven—yes!” Instantly he loosed her and swung round on the fighting men; not too soon; the Earl had slipped by the wall and Ian was over him, forcing the sword from his grip; but Ronald caught him by the shoulder and dragged him back with a force that shot the dagger from his hand. “Get up!” he shouted to Breadalbane; and the Earl, dizzy from the fear of death, staggered to his feet. The hall was full of Campbells, the Countess had dashed to shoot back the bolt and Ardkinglass had rushed in with a dozen of his kin at his heels. Makian, breathing hard, glanced round and saw the day lost for him; he had not gathered his son’s action; but Ian turned on his brother with bitter curses. “Are ye mad or traitor, Ronald, that ye give us to the hands of our enemies?” The Earl pushed past him into the center of the room and stood between the three Macdonalds, sullenly at bay, and the silent Campbells, waiting the signal for slaughter. “Fool! fool! to come to Kilchurn Castle!” said Makian, then fell into silence.