pines on the lawn. The rustling continued and
came nearer. Harry glanced at his father, who was behind a pillar not
ten feet away.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" called Colonel Kenton into the
darkness.

There was no answer and the rustling ceased. Harry heard nothing but
the gentle fall of the rain.

"Speak up!" called the colonel once more. "Who are you?"

The answer came. Forty or fifty rifles cracked among the pines.
Harry saw little flashes of fire, and he heard bullets hiss so
venomously that a chill ran along his spine. There was a patter of lead
on every side of the house, but most of the shots came from the front
lawn. It was well that the colonel, Harry and the judge, were sheltered
by the big pillars, or two or three shots out of so many would have
found a mark.

Harry's rage, which had cooled somewhat while he was waiting, returned.
He began to peer around the edge of the pillar, and seek a target,
but the colonel whispered to him to hold his fire.

"Getting no reply, they'll creep a little closer presently and fire a
second volley," he said.

Harry pressed closer to the pillar, kneeling low, as he had learned
already that nine out of ten men fire too high in battle. He heard once
more the rustling among the pines, and he knew that Skelly's men were
advancing. Doubtless they believed that the defenders had fled within
the house at the first volley.

He heard suddenly the clicking of gun locks, and the rifles crashed
together again, but now the fire was given at much closer range.
Harry saw a dusky figure beside a pine not thirty feet away, and he
instantly pulled trigger upon it. His father's own rifle cracked at the
same time, and two cries of pain came from the lawn. The boy, hot with
the fire of battle, snatched the pistols out of the holsters and sent
in four more shots.

Rapid reports from the other side of the house showed that the defenders
there were also repelling attacks.

But Skelly's men, finding that they could not rush the house, kept up
a siege from the ambush of the pines. Bullets rattled like hailstones
against the thick brick walls of the house, and several times the
smashing of glass told that windows had been shot in. Harry's blood now
grew feverishly hot and his anger mounted with it. It was intolerable
that these outlaws should attack people in their own homes. Lying
almost flat on the floor of the portico he reloaded his rifle and
pistols. As he ra