ld
dimly make out the figure of Minnie kneeling beneath the attap roof.

"Minnie," he whispered, "our men are fighting to defend the station, and
our place is there. Tell the Malay to get the boat across to a spot
where you will be safe. Don't ask me to stay. I can't." Turning from
the girl as she made a snatch at his hand, "Now, Pete," he said, and
grasping the gun, he sprang over the side into the shallow water, and
then, as he dragged himself out by the help of the nearest bush, a quick
panting from the gloom around told him that Peter was by his side. Then
old discipline asserted itself. "Forward! Double!" he cried; and
falling into step, the two lads ran almost blindly in the direction of
the shouting and yells, which acted as their guides to the quarter where
the conflict was going on.

Those next minutes were to the lads like a brief period of blind
confusion, and at one time they were hurrying between trees where the
smoke was thickest, rising from places where firing was going on and the
mist hung low but seemed to be lightened here and there by the
flickering of fire, whose pungent odour of burning wood assailed their
nostrils. Then Archie was conscious of finding himself rushing through
a crowd, at whom he struck right and left with the barrels of his gun,
and of hearing a piercing yell somewhere to his right, followed by a
grim, stem voice growling:

"You've got it, then!"

And at last, with a bound, the two lads stumbled, nearly fell, and then
leaped together over a rough breast-work, and fell heavily amongst the
dimly seen defenders who were left.

"Friends--friends!" yelled Peter, and then, "Mister Archie, sir, where
are you? Ah! That's done it!" For no reply came in answer from his
panting companion, who was being partly held up by one of those whom he
had joined, and who gasped out a cheer.

"That's right! Hooray it is!" cried Peter. "Here, give us a rifle.
I've got a bayonet." And Archie heard the _click, click_ of the keen
weapon being fixed.

This brought back his failing powers, and the next minute, finding
himself in the little line of defenders who were dimly seen in the smoke
that was floating from the levelled Residency, he raised the gun he
still clung to, tired twice into the bearers of so many bristling
spears, and began to load again, asking himself the question, "Are the
cartridges wet?"

The little, hurriedly thrust-in rolls answered for themselves with two
more sh