"What do you mean with your 'once more'? You never asked that before."

"Never you mind about that, my lad; and you'll find yourself in prison for this day's work. Where's Mr Mackhai?"

"Gone to Inverness, ugly," cried Kenneth derisively.

"Then you've got to give up this place to me quietly, under an--"

Bang!

"Who threw that potato?"

"I did," cried Max, laughing at the success of his aim, and his shot was followed by a shower which disorganised the enemy so that they ducked and dodged, and ended by dropping the old spar, from which all leaped, so as to save their toes.

"Pick it up, you great fools," roared the bailiff angrily. "And you look here," he cried, shaking the paper: "all the proper legal forms have been gone through, and this is an eviction order at the suit of-- Hang them! how they can throw!" cried the man angrily, as a fresh missile struck him on the cheek.

"Fecht, laddies, fecht!" yelled Tonal', stopping for a moment to shout, and then blowing again with all his might.

"You'd better go and pull that old madman down," cried the bailiff.

"Now, once for all," he continued, shaking the paper, "will you surrender?"

"No!" shouted Kenneth.

"No!" yelled Scoodrach; "she'll fecht till she ties. Come on!"

"All right," said the bailiff, turning to his men, who had once more got the spar on their shoulders. "No, no," he said; "half of you get one side, half the other, and swing it by your hands. Keep step, and run with it against the gate. The rotten old wood will fly like tinder."

The men obeyed, got the spar, which was about twenty feet long, well swung between them, and stood ready.

"Now, when I say 'go!'" cried the bailiff, "off with you at a good run, down with the gate, and rush in. I shall be close behind. Ready? Go!"

The men started, but they did not keep step, and before they had reached the gate, not only were they in confusion, but, amidst the shrieking of the pipes and the shouts and cheers of the defenders, they were met by such a storm of missiles, that, after bearing up against it for a few moments, they again dropped the great spar, and ran back.

This movement was the signal for a roar of derisive cheers, the boys indulging in quite a war-dance, which was ended by Scoodrach standing on his head upon one of the creneles, as a sign of his contempt for the enemy.

It was a dangerous feat, and he would have overbalanced himself, had not his father caught hold of one of his legs and dragged him back.

"What are ye gaun to dae?" he growled.

"Here, Scood, go and fetch the dining-room--no, you go, Grant--the table-cover, and that old long spear out of the hall."

The old butler smiled grimly, and began to descend from the broken rampart to the courtyard.

"What are you going to do, Ken?" asked Max.

"Hoist our colours. I'll let them see whether we're going to surrender."

"Want any more hot watter, Maister Ken?" cried the cook.

"Yes, to be sure--coppersful. Bring it along."

For the first time in Kenneth's recollection he saw the butler run, and in a few minutes he was back, with a red table-cover and a rusty-headed old lance.

"That's right! I'll show 'em!" cried Kenneth, as he tied two corners to the lance shaft; and, amidst fresh cheering, this was stuck in a corner and fixed in position with stones, so that the colours flew out triumphantly.

"Now then, come on!" shouted Kenneth, and a roar of defiance was uttered by the garrison, as the bailiff led back his men, making them pick up the battering-ram, and organising them for a fresh attack.

"A set o' cooards!" he exclaimed; "I'm ashamed o' ye."

"Weel, ye rin too," grumbled one of the men.

"Haud yer clack," cried the bailiff. "Noo then--go!"

There was another rush, and another shower of missiles as effective as the last; but this time the men charged on, and gave a moderately effective thump on the great gate; but it was not delivered all together and with a will, for, although a little desperate, the attacking party could not help dodging the potatoes which came thudding against them, and they were confused by the shouts, yells, and the shrieking of the pipes.

But they delivered another stroke, and another, as Tonald yelled again,--

"Fecht, lads, fecht!" and then blew and stamped up and down in a wonderful state of excitement.

Hot water was poured down, potatoes, pails, pots of earthenware flew, and came down with a crash like exploding sh.e.l.ls, and the excitement had nearly reached its height, when, in the midst of the storm of missiles thrown, the gate began to yield beneath the blows, and Kenneth was about to shout to his followers to run down and fight inside the gate, whose defenders now were the dogs alone, who barked and growled savagely at every blow.

"Don't be beaten, lads; never mind their throwing. Keep it up," cried the bailiff. "Never mind that. Go on. Another, and another, and down she comes."

_Bopp_!

But it was not the gate. There was a loud explosion--quite a heavy, echoing report, but the way was not open to the bailiff's men, and the occupants of Dunroe were not to be evicted that day.

For the attacking party suddenly ceased their efforts, to stand gazing in awe at something which had happened, and then they turned and fled.

Just when the wild confusion was at its height, and attackers and defenders were wild with excitement, the battering-ram threatening, the gates cracking, missiles flying, and both parties shouting with all their might, Donald Dhu was blowing his best, stamping up and down, gazing wildly at the partic.i.p.ators in the fray, when in his excitement he stepped upon a loose stone near the edge of the tower, where the crenelation was broken away, slipped, and went headlong down, to fall in a sitting position, and cause the loud report that startled all.

"Oh, poor old Donald! he's killed!" cried Kenneth, with a cry of anguish, as all the fun of the defence pa.s.sed away, and he saw himself face to face with a tragedy, whose occurrence had paralysed every one present; the sight of the falling man and the report being followed by a dead silence, which affected even the dogs.

But, to the astonishment of all, the old man suddenly sprang up, clapped his hand to his side, and whirled out his claymore from its sheath.

"Fecht, laddies, fecht!" he yelled, as he waved the flashing blade above his head. "Doon wi' t' enemies o' ta Mackhai!"

Uttering these last words as if they were a war-cry, he dashed at the bailiff, who stared wildly at the weird-looking old Highlander for a moment, and then, with his men, he turned and fled, the whole party retreating as hard as they could go.

"Hurray!" shouted Kenneth, and a burst of cheers followed, all shouting frantically as they saw old Tonal' in full pursuit.

Full pursuit?

He only went about half a dozen yards; then he limped, then he stopped short, and then he turned slowly, making his sword a walking-stick, as the gates were thrown open, and the dogs dashed out, barking savagely, and took up the pursuit, adding wings to the flight of the bailiffs men.

These ran the harder as they saw the light cavalry let loose, in the shape of Bruce, followed at a distance by the heavies, as represented by Dirk, who could not go so fast, and with the infantry in support in the ragged person of Sneeshing, who hindered his advance by keeping on firing shots.

The rest of the garrison poured forth, led by Kenneth, closely followed by Max and Scood, the former running up to old Donald, who came limping on.

"Are you much hurt, old man?" cried Kenneth, taking one arm.