Tom ran up to him and caught his rein.
“The women have got into the store—I saw the light—it’s where they keep the guns —will you leave them to me?”
“No bloodshed, then: they’re scarce!”
“I’ll make them prisoners.”
“And none of your larks just yet!”
Tom was gone. With a horse-pistol in each hand he dashed into the store, and caught Peggy and Miss Sullivan in the act of lifting down the fowling-pieces.
“Surrender!” he roared.
Miss Sullivan shrieked and hid her face. Peggy advanced.
“Shoot a woman if you dare,” said she. “’Tis me that dares ye!”
“Peggy!” he whispered.
“Tom!”
“I am here to save you both. Do as I tell you and make her do the same. I’m here to save you both!” he repeated aloud. “There are horses in the stable. Come with me and I’ll put you on them. Undo those outer doors, Peggy.”
He had said her name by accident. She gave him a warning glance. And now Miss Sullivan stood her ground steadfastly, and having recovered that mettle which was in the blood, refused to move until she knew what they were going to do with her father and brother.
“Nothing at all,” said Tom. “It’s you they’re after.”
“Me, indeed!”
“The two of you,” said Tom. “The men are all right, they’ve given in; but they’ll carry off the women if they can—though not if I know it.”
By this time Peggy O’Brien had unfastened the great
