e them
most unwieldy, and in the few seconds that followed Jim stood
cheek-by-jowl with death. Suddenly his eyes encountered the face of Canty
over the left shoulder of the swaddy. The little Irishman had pulled
himself to his feet, his back was to the logs, his pike raised in his two
hands. Lurching forward, he plunged the blade into the neck of the
soldier. The Lanky's bayonet dropped from his hand, and he fell
backwards. The haft of the pike striking the ground stopped him for a
moment, and then he swung sideways and dropped on to his face; the pike
remaining wedged in his spine, the shaft sprang into the air in a manner
that was never after quite free of a suggestion of the hideously
ludicrous in Jim's mind. Canty stared for a moment at his fallen enemy,
and then, uttering a strange Irish cry of exultation, he fell back across
the logs, never to stir again.

The fight at the logs was brief, but fierce. Finding the pikes useless
for thrusting, many of the diggers clubbed them. Following this example,
Jim swept a second soldier off his feet, and was laying about him with
all his strength, when a cavalryman drove his horse at the stockade, and
came over almost on top of him, slashing wildly right and left as he
came. The soldier's sword struck Done on the left side of the head,
inflicting a wound extending from the neck almost to the crown. Jim fell
against the horse, clinging weakly to his pike, feeling the hot blood
rolling down his neck. He saw the sword raised again, but at that instant
a revolver flashed over his shoulder, and the mounted man dived forward,
rolled on the neck of his horse, and slid slowly to the ground--dead. Jim
turned and recognised the pale face of his brother in the dim light of
morning, but at the same instant was struck again, and fell with a bullet
in his shoulder.

Wat Ryder uttered a fierce oath, and sprang at the bridle of the
riderless horse. With the rein over his arm, he knelt by Jim's side, and
endeavoured to rouse him. The infantry were now all within the stockade,
pressing forward, firing amongst the scattered insurgents and into the
holes where the riflemen were, and the cavalry and mounted troopers were
pursuing the rebels, cutting them down ruthlessly.

Ryder succeeded in getting Jim to his feet, and he clung limply to the
horse's mane, only dimly conscious of what was happening.

'For God's sake, make an effort, Jim!' cried Ryder. 'Here, up with you,
stranger! I'll give the