I knew not if I had a dozen men behind me, but the fighting spirit had come again.
"To the openings, men! To the openings!" I shouted.

"Beat them back!" I heard the rush of feet, the shout of hoarse voices, the crash of furniture flung aside.

Bullets from some firing line chugged into the wall; the room was obscured by smoke, noisy with the sharp report of guns.

I could dimly see the figures of men struggling forward, and I also made for the nearest light, stumbling over the debris.

But we were too late.