AT THE FIREPLACE
"Are you there, O'Brien?"
"I am, sor."
"What are you firing at?"
"Damn if I know, sor, only there was a heap of Johnnies outside whin we begun the racket. Wan or two of the boys got hit, sor."
"Sorry to hear that; have the wounded brought out into the hall; but first make your men stop shooting until they see something to aim at. We may need all our ammunition before we're done with this job. How large is your squad?"
"About a dozen, I reckon."
Keep six of them, and post two at each window. If they see anything move, fire at it. Send the others to me."
An occasional shot, fired apparently from some distance, chugged against the front door, but as this was of solid oak, little damage was being done, and there was no need for extinguishing the dim light still burning at the rear of the hall. I found just inside the door the bodies of two dead soldiers, and four men wounded, one so seriously so as to be helpless. As their comrades crawled forth from the rooms on either side, I counted fourteen fit for duty. This number should prove sufficient for the defence of the lower story, and I hastily assigned them, two by two, to points where it seemed to me they might prove most useful, giving them careful instruction, and making them realize their lives depended on vigilance. The house stood high above the ground that few of the windows were accessible from
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