"Hi, Jem, have ye seen the General's man? His Honor's in a 'igh temper,
I warrant ye."

It was fortunate for Jem that he put his foot inside the blockhouse door.

"Now, boys!"

It was Williams's voice, and fourteen rifles sputtered out a ragged
volley.

There was an instant's silence, and then a score of voices raised in
consternation,--shouting, cursing, commanding. Heavy feet pounded on the
platform of the blockhouse. While Tom was savagely jamming in powder and
ball, the wicket gate of the fort opened, a man came out and ran to a
house a biscuit's throw away, and ran back again before he was shot at,
slamming the gate after him. Tom swore.

"We've got but the ten rounds," he said, dropping his rifle to his knee.
"I reckon 'tis no use to waste it."

"The Willing may come to-night," I answered.

There was a bugle winding a strange call, and the roll of a drum, and the
running continued.

"Don't fire till you're sure, boys," said Captain Williams.

Our eyes caught sight of a form in the blockhouse port, there was an
instant when a candle flung its rays upon a cannon's flank, and Tom's