at his pistol was
charged.

"Beat them off? Why, of course. There you are again. Look sharp!"

Once more the two pistols cleared the attacking Maoris from the top of
the fence, where they were vainly trying to cut through the lashings;
and, cheered on by these successes, the defenders yelled with delight,
and used their spears with terrible effect. But the attacking party,
after a recoil, came on again as stubbornly as ever, and it was plain
enough to those who handled the firearms that it was only a question of
time before the besieged would be beaten by numbers; and Don shuddered
as he thought of the massacre that must ensue.

He had been looking round, and then found that Jem was eyeing him
fixedly.

"Just what I was a-thinking, Mas' Don. We've fought like men; but we
can't do impossibles, as I says to your uncle, when he wanted me to move
a molasses barrel. Sooner we cuts and runs, the better."

"I was not thinking of running, Jem."

"Then you ought to have been, my lad; for there's them at home as
wouldn't like us two to be killed."

"Don't! Don't! Jem!" cried Don. "Come on. There's a man over! Two--
three--four! Look!"

He ran toward the side, where a desperate attack was being made, and, as
he said, four men were over, and others following, when once more the
pistols sent down a couple who had mounted the fence, one of them being
shot through the chest, the other dropping on seeing his companion fall,
but with no further hurt than the fright caused by a bullet whistling by
his ear.

The four who were over made a desperate stand, but Tomati joined in the
attack, and the daring fellows soon lay weltering in their blood; while,
as Don rapidly loaded once more, he saw that Tomati was leaning on his
spear, and rocking himself slowly to and fro.

"Are you hurt?" said Don, running up, and loading as he went.

"Hurt, my lad? Yes: got it horrid. Look here, if you and him see a
chance make for the mountain, and then go south'ard."

"But shall we be beaten?"

"We are beaten, my lad, only we can't show it. I'm about done."

"Oh!"

"Hush! Don't show the white feather, boy. Keep on firing, and the
beggars outside may get tired first. If not--There, fire away!"

He made a brave effort to seem unhurt, and went to assist his men; while
once more Don and Jem ran to the side, and fired just in time to save
the lashings of the fence; but Jem's pistol went off with quite a roar,
and he flung the