This time his followers obeyed, and they made a rush, to be received by a tremendous volley, which produced first blood, Scoodrach having sent a big Dalmahoy or a Scotch Regent--this is a doubtful point in the chronicle of the attack and defence of Dunroe--and hit one of the bailiff's men full in the nose, one of Max's shots taking effect at the same time in a man's eye, and the first of the wounded staggered back to the hospital ambulance; in other words, he bolted down the rocks to the water's edge and began to bathe his face.

Another shout, though, from the bailiff, and the a.s.saulting party charged home right up to the gateway, and began to thunder and thrust at the crumbling old gates, which were, however, held fast by the wooden props and stones.

"We can't get through here," grumbled one man. "Is there no other way?"

"No, not without a latter," said another.

"Then let's fetch a latter."

"No, no; push all together, and down the gates will go. They can't hit us here."

Squish, splash, wash, came down a perfect torrent of water through the machicolations, as what Kenneth called "the boiling lead" was brought to bear through the openings left by the old architect for the defence of the gate.

"No, no, no; don't rin!" cried the bailiff; "it's only watter."

Plosh!

Half a pailful poured down by Max came full upon the speaker's head, and he turned and headed the stampede, amidst the roars of laughter of the defenders.

"Yah! it's a' doon me back--it's a' doon me back," snarled the bailiff, stamping with fury, as he dashed the water out of his hat, and wrung his clothes, to the great delight of his men as well.

"Ye shall a' pay for this!" he shouted, as he waved the wet paper he held. "Ye'll know ye're reseesting the law."

"Come and have another shower-bath!" cried Max.

"Yes, you want it!" roared Kenneth. "Bring some more ammunition. Hi, Tonal', play up, auld mon!"

"Fecht, laddies, fecht!" shouted back the old piper, as he took the piece from his lips for a moment.

"Yes, we'll fecht!" cried Kenneth.

"Gin ye come here, ye togs, she'll slit a' yer weams!" yelled Scoodrach excitedly; and then there was a pause, for the bailiff was holding a consultation, and then he pointed down to the beach.

"What's he pointing at?" said Kenneth, as his followers placed fresh ammunition--the wet and the dry--ready.

"I know," cried Max. "That old bit of a mast."

"What, the broken topmast of the wreck?"

"Yes. They're going to fetch it, and make a battering-ram to knock down the gate."

"Then we'll half drown the beggars," cried Kenneth. "More water here!

Cookie, let's have some hot."

"Hey, but ye shall have sax pots fu', Maister Kenneth," cried the woman, and in a very short time, as the bailiffs men went down to get the old spar, six kettles and saucepans of boiling water were brought up into the old broken gateway tower.

"Pour it into the pails, and soften it down, Maxy. We mustn't give it to 'em too hot," cried Kenneth.

"How much cold shall I put?"

"Half and half; that'll suit 'em. Shall I give 'em some whisky and sugar with it, Grant?"

"Nay, nay," cried the old butler; "and don't make it too cold, or there'll be no sting in it to frighten 'em."

"Now then, girls," cried Kenneth, "bring them along."

Everybody worked with a will, and plenty of missiles were carried up the broken stone stairs and stored ready, Max making himself so busy, and growing so excited, that Tavish patted him on the shoulder.

"Hey," he said softly, "'twas a gran' petty she were born so far sooth."

As for Scoodrach, he grew quite friendly, and grinned hugely at the way in which Max took to the defence.

"It's a rare game, isn't it, Maxy?" cried Kenneth, in the temporary lull of the attack.

"Game! I never enjoyed anything so much in my life. Shall we beat them off?"

"Shall she peat 'em off!" cried Tavish fiercely. "She wull peat 'em off! D'ye think ta children of ta Mackhai will let ta thieves come past ta gates?"

"Hurray!" cried Kenneth; and Scoodrach tossed up his bonnet as he shouted, and then nearly tumbled off the battlements as he tried to catch the cap, and stood scratching his curly red head as the woollen-tufted covering fell below.

"Hullo, Scood!" cried Max.

"It ton't matter," cried the gillie; "she can fecht petter withoot a ponnet."

"Look at old Donald," whispered Max.

The pipes had ceased, and they looked up, to see the old man stooping in a striking att.i.tude, bareheaded and with his right hand shading his eyes, one knee resting on the corner crenele of the tower, his left arm grasping his pipes, while he watched the movements of the bailiff's men, as they now began to lift the spar on to their shoulders.

"Be quite ready for them when they come," cried Kenneth, after a hearty laugh at the old family retainer.

"Oh ay," said Scood, "we'll pe retty;" and, with a queer look, he drew a sgian-dhu from his belt.

"Ah, none of that, Scoody!" cried Kenneth. "Give me that knife."

"Nay; she wants it for ta togs when ta gate's knockit down."

"No, you don't. Here, Max, take away that knife."

"Nay, she will na give it up," growled Scoody menacingly; and his face grew dark as Max seized his wrist and took the knife.

"Ye daurna do that if ta young chief wasna here," he said angrily.

"Yes, I dare," cried Max, turning away, and giving Kenneth the knife, which he jerked over his shoulder into the courtyard.

At that moment the pipes struck up again, "The Campbells are coming,"

and old Tonal' recommenced his short march to and fro, for the bailiffs gang, after shouldering the old spar, were in full march up the steep slope towards the gateway, and as they approached they gave a triumphant cheer.

"Now, once more," cried the bailiff: "where's Mr Mackhai?"