f slight advantage to the
defenders of the house; for the assailants were all good shots, and the
loopholes afforded excellent targets at such a distance. After a few
shots had been fired from the house the fire of the defenders ceased,
the men within not daring to protrude the rifles through the loopholes,
as every such appearance was instantly followed by a couple of shots
from the corn patch.

"Give me one of those axes," the sheriff said. "Now, Withers, do you
make a rush with me to the door. Get your rifle loaded before you start,
and have your revolver handy in your belt. Now, Captain Wingfield, do
you and the other two keep a sharp lookout at the loopholes, and see
that they don't get a shot at us as we run. Now, Withers!" and the
sheriff ran forward. Two rifles were protruded through the loopholes.
Vincent and his companions fired at once. One of the rifles gave a
sharp jerk and disappeared, the other was fired, and Withers dropped his
ax, but still ran forward. The sheriff began an onslaught at the door,
his companion's right arm being useless. A minute later the sharp crack
of rifles was heard in the rear, and the sheriff and two men rushed in
that direction, while Vincent and the other lay watching the door.
Scarcely had the sheriff's party disappeared round the house when the
door was thrown open, and Pearson ran out at full speed. Vincent leaped
to his feet.

"Surrender," he said, "or you are a dead man!"

Jonas paused for a moment with a loud imprecation, and then, leveling a
revolver, fired. Vincent felt a moment's pain in the cheek, but before
he could level his rifle his companion fired, and Pearson fell forward
dead. A minute later the sheriff and his party ran round.

"Have you got him?" he asked.

"He will give no more trouble, sheriff," the young man who fired said.
"I fancy I had him plum between the eyes. How about the others?"

"Dick Matheson is killed; he got two bullets in his body. The other man
is badly wounded. There are no signs of old Porter."

They now advanced to the door, which stood open. As the sheriff entered
there was a sharp report, and he fell back, shot through the heart. The
rest made a rush forward. Another shot was fired, but this missed them,
and before it could be repeated they had wrested the pistol from the
hand of Matheson's wife. She was firmly secured, and they then entered
the kitchen, where, crouched upon the floor, lay seven or eight negro
men and women in an