"It's of no use, chief," Peter said. "We'll have the hull pack from
behind upon us in five minutes. We must run for it and take our chances
of being hit."
Swerving somewhat from their former line, they again ran on; bullets
whisked round them, but they did not pause to fire a shot in return.
"Tarnation!" Peter exclaimed, as the trees in front of them opened and
they found themselves on the edge of another clearing. It was
considerably larger than that which they had lately left, being three
hundred yards across, and extending back from the lake fully half a
mile. As in the previous case, a log hut stood in the center, some two
hundred yards back from the lake.
"There's nothing for it, chief," Peter said. "We must take to the house
and fight it out there. There's a hull gang of fellows in the forest
ahead, and they'll shoot us down if we cross the clearing."
Without a moment's hesitation the party rushed across the clearing to
the hut. Several shots were fired as they dashed across the open, but
they gained the place of refuge in safety. The hut was deserted. It had
probably belonged to royalists, for its rough furniture lay broken on
the ground; boxes and cupboards had been forced open, and the floor was
strewn with broken crockery and portions of wearing apparel.
Harold looked round. Several of the party were bleeding from
slight wounds.
"Now to the windows," Peter said as he barred the door. "Pile up bedding
and anything else that ye can find against the shutters, and keep
yerselves well under cover.
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