e a shambles. In a moment he discovered another figure in
the shadowy darkness, fighting in a similar fashion, and he knew by the
crude, disjointed oaths which were hurled with each blow, so full of a
venomous hate, that Peigan Charley had somehow come to his support.
His heart warmed, and his onslaught increased in its bitter ferocity.

He was holding. Just holding the rush, and that was all. Without the
reinforcements he had claimed he could not hope to drive his attack
home. He knew. Nor did he attempt to blind himself. The whole thing
was a matter of minutes now. Defeat, complete disaster hung by a
thread, and the fever of the knowledge fired his muscles to an effort
that was almost superhuman.

He drove his way through the raging savages, whose crude weapons for
close quarters were aimed at him from every direction. He was fighting
for time. He was fighting to hold--simply hold. He was fighting to
demoralize the rush, and drive terror into savage hearts. And he knew
his limits were steadily approaching.

His first call had reached the ears of the man for whom it was
intended. Nor had they been indifferent. A call for help from Kars
was an irresistible clarion of appeal to Bill Brudenell. Mercy? There
was no consideration of healing or mercy could claim him from his
friend's succor. He flung aside his drugs, his bandages. He had no
thought for his wounded. He had no thought for himself.

To collect reinforcements from the northern defences was the work of a
few minutes. Even the elderly breed cook at the cook-house was
claimed, though his only weapons were an ancient patterned revolver and
a pick-haft he had snatched up. Fifteen men in all he was able to
collect and at the head of them he rushed for the battle-ground.

Nor was he a moment too soon. Kars' vigor was rapidly exhausting
itself. Peigan Charley was fighting with a demoniac fury, but
weakening. The handful of men who were still supporting were nearly
defeated.

Bill knew the value of creating panic. As he came he set up a yell.
His men took it up, and it sounded like the advance of a legion of
demons. In a moment they were caught in the whirl of battle, and the
flash of their weapons lit the scene, while the clatter of firearms,
and the hoarse-throated shouting, gave an impression of overwhelming
force. Back reeled the yelling horde in face of the onslaught. Back
and still back. Confusion with those pressing on behind set