seen Sandie, the moon shining down
on the white shirt and trousers he wore, and which made him altogether so
conspicuous a figure, as he took aim with rifle or revolver, or dashed
into a crowd of spear-armed Indians, his claymore hardly visible, so
swiftly was it moved to and fro. I grasped his shoulder, pointed in the
direction indicated by Yambo, and on we flew.

As soon as we had rounded the wing of an outbuilding and reached
Moncrieff's terraced lawn, the din of the fight we had just left became
more indistinct, but we now heard sounds that, while they thrilled us with
terror and anger, made us rush on across the grass with the speed of the
panther.

They were the voices of shrieking women, the crashing of glass and
furniture, and the savage and exultant yell of the Indians.

Looking back now to this episode of the night, I can hardly realize that
so many terrible events could have occurred in so brief a time, for, from
the moment we charged up across the lawn not six minutes could have
elapsed ere all was over. It is like a dream, but a dream every turn of
which has been burned into my memory, to remain while life shall last.
Yonder is a tall _cacique_ hurrying out into the bright moonlight from
under the verandah. He bears in his arms the inanimate form of my dear
sister Flora. Is it really _I_ myself who rush up to meet him? Have _I_
fired that shot that causes the savage to reel and fall? Is it I who lift
poor Flora and lay her in the shade of a mimosa-tree? It must be I, yet
every action seems governed by instinct; I am for the time being a strange
psychological study. It is as if my soul had left the body, but still
commanded it, standing aside, ruling every motion, directing every blow
from first to last, and being implicitly obeyed by the other _ego_, the
_ego_-incorporate. There is a crowd, nay, a cloud even it seems, around
me; but see, I have cut my way through them at last: they have fallen
before me, fallen at my side--fallen or fled. I step over bodies, I enter
the room, I stumble over other bodies. Now a light is struck and a lamp is
lit, and standing beside the table, calm, but very pale, I see my aunt
dimly through the smoke. My mother is near her--my own brave mother. Both
have revolvers in their hands; and I know now why bodies are stretched on
the floor. One glance shows me Aileen, lying like a dead thing in a
chair, and beside her, smoothing her brow, chafing her hands, Moncrieff's
marvellous