They had listened with much sympathy to the discussion narrated, and as the pomposity and assumption of Tim had made him an object of vulgar ridicule, a desire to rebuke him, not less than a willingness to go with the smith, contributed readily to persuade them to the adventure. In a few moments the gate of the Block-house was unbarred, and the party sallied through the entrance, the smith at their head. In the meanwhile, with sleeves rolled up, jacket off, and face that seemed not often to have been entirely free from the begriming blackness of his profession, the smith commenced his tremendous blows upon the contiguous palings, followed with like zeal, if not with equal power, by the men who had volunteered along with him. Down went the first post beneath his arm, and as, with resolute spirit, he was about to assail another, a huge skeleton warrior stood in the gap which he had made, and with a powerful blow from the mace which he carried, had our blacksmith been less observant, would have soon finished his career. But the smith was a man of agility as well as strength and spirit, and leaping aside from the stroke, as his eye rose to the corresponding glance from that of his enemy, he gave due warning to his axe-men, who forebore their strokes under his command. The aperture was yet too small for any combat of the parties; and ignorant of the force against him, surprised also at their appearance, he dispatched one of his men to Lieutenant Garnet, and gave directions, which, had they been complied with, had certainly given them the advantage. The Skeleton Crew rushed upon them, and for a time defeated the aim of Garnet’s musketry. Fighting like a lion as he retreated to the gate of the Block-house, the brave smith continued to keep unharmed, making at the same time some little employment in the shape of ugly wounds to dress, in the persons of his rash assailants. Once more they gave back before him, and again the musketry of Garnet was enabled to tell upon them. A discharge from the Block-house in the meantime retorted with good effect the attack of the sailor, and taught a lesson of caution to Ned Warbeck, of which he soon availed himself. Three of his men bit the dust in that single fire. The brave smith again reached the door with a single unwounded follower, himself unhurt. His comrades threw open the entrance, but an instant too late. A parting shot from the muskets of the Skeleton Crew was made with a fatal effect. The smith sank down upon the threshold as the bullet passed through his body. The axe fell from his hand. He grasped at it convulsively, and lay extended in part upon the sill of the door, when Garnet drew him in safety away. “You are not hurt, my old fellow?” exclaimed Garnet, his voice trembling with the apprehensions which he felt. “Hurt enough, lieutenant—bad enough. No more grist ground at that mill. But hold in—don’t be frightened; you can beat ’em yet. Ah!” he groaned, in a mortal agony.