for a few seconds to Don.

"We shall beat them off, sir," said Don cheerily.

"Yes, I hope so, my lad," said the settler calmly. "You see you are of
great use."

"No, sir; it's all my fault," replied Don.

"Mas' Don," whispered Jem, as Don returned, "look out of the window;
mind the spears; then tell me what you see."

"Fire!" said Don after a momentary examination.

He was quite right. A fire had been lit in the forest at the back, and
ten minutes after, as Mike Bannock's voice could be heard cheering them,
the Maoris came on, hurling burning branches on to the roof of the
little log-house.

For a few minutes there was no result. Then there arose a yell, for the
roof had caught, the resinous pine burned strongly, the smoke began to
curl in between the rafters, and the women were helped down.

To extinguish the flames was impossible, and would even have been as
vain a task had they been outside ready with water.

"How long will she last before she comes down?" said one of the
settlers.

"We can stop in here for a quarter, perhaps half an hour longer," said
Gordon; "and then we must make a dash for your place."

"Yes," said the settler, "and they know it. Look!"

By the increasing light from the burning house, the savages could be
seen with their white leaders preparing for a rush.

Just then Don and his two companions were forced to leave the little
lean-to, whose roof was burning furiously, and it was only by closing
the rough door of communication that the besieged were able to remain in
the big kitchen.

"It won't last five minutes, my lads," said Gordon. "Be ready, women.
I'll throw open the door. We men will rush out and form up. You women
run down to the right and make for Smith's. We shall give them a volley
to check them, and run after you."

"Ready?"

"Ay."

"All loaded?"

"Ay," came in a deep despairing growl.

"Down with these boxes and tubs then. You, Don, you are young and weak;
go with the women."

"No," said Don; "I shall go with you men."

"Brayvo, Mas' Don!" whispered Jem. "What a while they are opening that
door! We shall be roasted, my lad, after all, and these wretches 'll
pick our bones."

The door was flung open, and the enemy uttered a yell of delight as the
little party of whites ran out of the burning house.

"Now, women!" cried Gordon.

"No: stop!" roared Don.

_Crash_!

A heavy volley from the right, and the besiegers made a rush for the
left.