“Amine has exposed herself,” thought Philip, “and may be hurt.”

The desire of vengeance prompted him first to fire his piece through the man’s body, and then he flew up the stairs to ascertain the state of Amine.  She was not at the casement; he darted into the inner room, and found her deliberately loading the carbine.

“My God! how you frightened me, Amine.  I thought by their firing that you had shown yourself at the window.”

“Indeed I did not; but I thought that when you fired through the door they might return your fire, and you be hurt; so I went to the side of the casement and pushed out on a stick some of my father’s clothes, and they who were watching for you fired immediately.”

“Indeed, Amine! who could have expected such courage and such coolness in one so young and beautiful?” exclaimed Philip, with surprise.

“Are none but ill-favoured people brave, then?” replied Amine, smiling.

“I did not mean that, Amine—­but I am losing time.  I must to the door again.  Give me that carbine, and reload this.”

Philip crept downstairs that he might reconnoitre, but before he had gained the door he heard at a distance the voice of Mynheer Poots.  Amine, who also heard it, was in a moment at his side with a loaded pistol in each hand.

“Fear not, Amine,” said Philip, as he unbarred the door, “there are but two, and your father shall be saved.”

The door was opened, and Philip, seizing his carbine, rushed out; he found Mynheer Poots on the ground between the two men, one of whom had raised his knife to plunge it into his body, when the ball of the carbine whizzed through his head.  The last of the robbers closed with Philip, and a desperate struggle ensued; it was, however, soon decided by Amine stepping forward and firing one of the pistols through the robber’s body.

We must here inform our readers that Mynheer Poots, when coming home, had heard the report of fire-arms in the direction of his own house.  The recollection of his daughter and of his money—­for to do him justice he did love her best—­had lent him wings; he forgot that he was a feeble old man and without arms; all he thought of was to gain his habitation.  On he came, reckless, frantic, and shouting, and rushed into the arms of the two robbers, who seized and would have despatched him, had not Philip so opportunely come to his assistance.

As soon as the last robber fell, Philip disengaged himself and went to the assistance of Mynheer Poots, whom he raised up in his arms, and carried into the house as if he were an infant.  The old man was still in a state of delirium from fear and previous excitement.

In a few minutes Mynheer Poots was more coherent.

“My daughter!” exclaimed he—­“my daughter! where is she?”

“She is here, father, and safe,” replied Amine.

“Ah! my child is safe,” said he, opening his eyes and staring.  “Yes, it is even so—­and my money—­my money—­where is my money?” continued he, starting up.