It was no time to linger.  I ran with Lorna in my arms to the sled, and Gwenny followed.  Then, with my staff from rock to rock, I broke the sled’s too rapid way down the frozen waterfall, and brought my darling safely out of Glen Doone by the selfsame path which first led me up to her.  In an hour’s time she was under my roof, and my dear mother and my sisters were tending her and Gwenny, for they both were utterly worn out by their cruel privations.

IV.—­A Night of Fire and Blood

It gave me no little pleasure to think how mad Carver Doone must be with me for robbing him of the lovely bride whom he was trying to starve into marriage.  However, I was not pleased with the prospect of the consequences; but set all hands to work to prepare for the attack on the farm which I saw would follow when the paths were practicable.  By the time the rain fell and cleared the snow away, I had everything ready.  The outlaws waited till the moon was risen, as it was dangerous to cross the flooded valley in the darkness, and then they rode into our farmyard as coolly as if they had been invited.  Jeremy Stickler and his troopers were waiting in the shadow of the house, and I stood with a club and a gun in the mow-yard, for I knew the Doones would begin by firing our ricks.

“Two of you go”—­it was the deep voice of Carver Doone—­“and make us a light to cut their throats by.”

As he spoke I set my gun against his breast.  Yet—­will you believe me?—­I could not pull the trigger.  Would to God I had done so!  But I had never taken human life.  I dropped my carbine, and grasped my club, which seemed a more straightforward implement.  With this I struck down the first man that put a torch to the rick, and broke the collar-bone of the second.  Then a blaze of light came from the house, and two of the Doones fell under the fire of the troopers, and the rest hung back.  They were not used to this kind of reception from farmers; they thought it neither kind nor courteous.  Unable any longer to contain myself, I came across the yard.  But no one shot at me; and I went up to Carver Doone and took him by the beard, and said:  “Do you call yourself a man?”

He was so astonished that he could not speak.  He saw he had met his equal, or perhaps his master.  He held a pistol at me; but I was too quick for him, and I laid him flat upon his back.

“Now, Carver Doone, take warning,” I said to him.  “You have shown yourself a fool by your contempt of me.  I may not be your match in craft; but I am in manhood.  Lay low there in your native muck.”

Seeing him down, the others broke and ran, but one had a shot at me.  And while I was feeling my wound—­which was nothing much—­Carver arose and strode away with a train of curses.