'Now, and fire low!' He discharged both barrels so rapidly that the two detonations blended into one, and the assailants replied by a volley, the echoing din almost sounding like artillery.

Fast as Walpole could fire, the girl replaced the piece by another; when suddenly she cried, 'There is a fellow at the gate--the carbine--the carbine now, and steady.' A heavy crash and a cry followed his discharge, and snatching the weapon from him, she reloaded and handed it back with lightning speed.

'There is another there,' whispered she; and Walpole moved farther out, to take a steadier aim.

All was still, not a sound to be heard for some seconds, when the hinges of the gate creaked and the bolt shook in the lock.

Walpole fired again, but as he did so, the others poured in a rattling volley, one shot grazing his cheek, and another smashing both bones of his right arm, so that the carbine fell powerless from his hand.