We began to think at last that we had got in for a hot thing, and that we should have to drop it like Moran’s mob at Kadombla. However, Starlight was one of those men that won’t be beat, and he kept getting more and more determined to score. He crept away to the back of the building, where he could see to fire at a top window close by where the doctor and Mr. Knightley had been potting at us.

He had the repeating rifle he’d won from me; he never let it go afterwards, and he could make wonderful shooting with it. He kept it going so lively that they began to be hard pressed inside, and had to fire away twice as much ammunition as they otherwise would. It always beat me how they contrived to defend so many points at once. We tried back and front, doors and windows. Twenty times we tried a rush, but they were always ready—so it seemed—and their fire was too hot for us to stand up to, unless we wanted to lose every second man.

The shooting was very close. Nearly every one of us had a scratch—Starlight rather the worst, as he was more in the front and showed himself more. His left arm was bleeding pretty free, but he tied a handkerchief over it and went on as if nothing had happened, only I could see that his face had that set look he only got now and then, and his eyes began to show a fierce light.

At last we began to see that the return fire was slacking off, while ours was as brisk as ever.

“Hurrah!” says Starlight, “I believe they’ll give in soon. If they had any cartridges they would have had every man of us in that last rush. Let’s try another dodge. Here goes for a battering-ram, Dick!”

He pointed to a long, heavy sapling which had been fetched in for a sleeper or something of that sort. We picked it up, and taking a run back, brought it with all its weight against the front door. In it went like a sheet of bark; we almost fell as we ran forward and found ourselves in a big, dark hall. It seemed very queer and strange, everything was so silent and quiet.

We half expected another volley. But nothing came. We could only stand and wait. The others had gone round the side of the house.

“Get to a corner, Dick; they’re always the safest places. We must mind it isn’t an ambush. What the devil’s the matter? Are they going to suicide, like the people in the round tower of Jhansi?”

“There are no women here,” I said. “There’s no saying what Mr. Knightley might do if his wife had been here.”