"Hist!" he said--"I hear a distant noise."
"It is the rushing of the brook over the pebbles," said one.
"It is the sough of the wind among the bracken," said another.
"It is the galloping of horse," said Morton to himself, his sense of
hearing rendered acute by the dreadful situation in which he stood; "God
grant they may come as my deliverers!"
The noise approached rapidly, and became more and more distinct.
"It is horse," cried Macbriar. "Look out and descry who they are."
"The enemy are upon us!" cried one who had opened the window, in
obedience to his order.
A thick trampling and loud voices were heard immediately round the house.
Some rose to resist, and some to escape; the doors and windows were
forced at once, and the red coats of the troopers appeared in the
apartment.
"Have at the bloody rebels!--Remember Cornet Grahame!" was shouted on
every side.
The lights were struck down, but the dubious glare of the fire enabled
them to continue the fray. Several pistol-shots were fired; the whig who
stood next to Morton received a shot as he was rising, stumbled against
the prisoner, whom he bore down with his weight, and lay stretched above
him a dying man. This accident probably saved Morton from the damage he
might otherwise have received in so close a struggle, where fire-arms
were discharged and sword-blows given for upwards of five minutes.
Pages:
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185