Landless left his loophole in charge of the Muggletonian and went swiftly into the hall, where he found the master, his wig off, his shirt torn, his face and hands blackened with powder, now firing with his own hand, now shouting encouragement to the panting men. "Powder and shot!" he cried. "God help us! are you out? Not a grain or a bullet can we spare, for if we keep them not from the great door we are dead men!" Landless went to the overseer. "Two more rounds and _we_ are out," said Woodson coolly, firing as he spoke. "There is no sign that they have had enough," said Landless, as the clamor outside redoubled, and a man fell heavily back from his loophole with a bullet through his brain. "Enough! Damn them, no!" said the overseer. "When they’ve had our lives they will have had enough—not before! They’re paying dearly for their fun though." Landless went back to the great room with empty hands. "They are all in like case," he said, in answer to Sir Charles’s lifted eyebrows. The other shrugged his shoulders. "What will be, will be. If we could have saved our fire—but we had to keep them from the door! Get to your post, and we will hold them back as long as may be. Then a short passage to eternal nothingness! "A short passage!" muttered the Muggletonian at Landless’s ear. "Well for those who find that at the hands of the uncircumcised heathen. Eternal nothingness! The fool hath said in his heart There is no God—and he is being dashed headlong upon the judgment bar of the God who saith, I will repay. Cursed be the Atheist! May he find the passage, fiery though it be, as nothing to the flames of the avenging God; may he go to his appointed place where the worm dieth not and the fire is not quenched; may—" The trunk of a tree was dashed against the door with a force that shook the room. "Dey ’re comin’!" shouted Regulus, who stood behind Sir Charles, and raised the axe with which he was armed above his head. Another crash and the wood splintered. Through the ragged opening was thrust a red hand—the axe, wielded by Regulus’s powerful arms, flashed downwards, and the hand, severed at the wrist, fell with a dull thud upon the floor. A yell from without, and another blow, widening the opening. Landless fired his last bullet into the crowd, and clubbing his musket sprang to the door, in front of which were now massed all the defenders of that side of the house. Sir Charles threw down his useless musket, and drew his sword. "Cousin," he said over his shoulder to Patricia, standing white and erect in the midst of the cowering women, "you had best betake yourselves to the hall, and that quickly. This will be no ladies’ bower presently." "Come," said Patricia to the women, and led the way towards the door leading into the hall. As she passed Sir Charles she put out her hand, and he caught it, sunk to his knee, and pressed his lips upon it.