s men, who had once more got
the spar on their shoulders. "No, no," he said; "half of you get one
side, half the other, and swing it by your hands. Keep step, and run
with it against the gate. The rotten old wood will fly like tinder."

The men obeyed, got the spar, which was about twenty feet long, well
swung between them, and stood ready.

"Now, when I say `go!'" cried the bailiff, "off with you at a good run,
down with the gate, and rush in. I shall be close behind. Ready? Go!"

The men started, but they did not keep step, and before they had reached
the gate, not only were they in confusion, but, amidst the shrieking of
the pipes and the shouts and cheers of the defenders, they were met by
such a storm of missiles, that, after bearing up against it for a few
moments, they again dropped the great spar, and ran back.

This movement was the signal for a roar of derisive cheers, the boys
indulging in quite a war-dance, which was ended by Scoodrach standing on
his head upon one of the creneles, as a sign of his contempt for the
enemy.

It was a dangerous feat, and he would have overbalanced himself, had not
his father caught hold of one of his legs and dragged him back.

"What are ye gaun to dae?" he growled.

"Here, Scood, go and fetch the dining-room--no, you go, Grant--the
table-cover, and that old long spear out of the hall."

The old butler smiled grimly, and began to descend from the broken
rampart to the courtyard.

"What are you going to do, Ken?" asked Max.

"Hoist our colours. I'll let them see whether we're going to
surrender."

"Want any more hot watter, Maister Ken?" cried the cook.

"Yes, to be sure--coppersful. Bring it along."

For the first time in Kenneth's recollection he saw the butler run, and
in a few minutes he was back, with a red table-cover and a rusty-headed
old lance.

"That's right! I'll show 'em!" cried Kenneth, as he tied two corners to
the lance shaft; and, amidst fresh cheering, this was stuck in a corner
and fixed in position with stones, so that the colours flew out
triumphantly.

"Now then, come on!" shouted Kenneth, and a roar of defiance was uttered
by the garrison, as the bailiff led back his men, making them pick up
the battering-ram, and organising them for a fresh attack.

"A set o' cooards!" he exclaimed; "I'm ashamed o' ye."

"Weel, ye rin too," grumbled one of the men.

"Haud yer clack," cried the bailiff. "Noo then--go!"

There was another ru