Put yourself in his place.  Death for him, perhaps for them,—­dishonor anyway,—­was all they could look for if no rescue came.  Was it not his duty to his parents, to his sisters, even to God, to accept these terms,—­to withdraw his little force?  Why should he be perilling such precious lives and names in the defence of a government official who had been so reckless as to part with his guard and put himself and his funds in such a predicament?  From the other room in which the major now lay, feebly moaning, no word of remonstrance came.  Even in their extremity, then, the soldiers of the government would not urge that he stay and encounter further peril in their defence.  One of the drugged troopers was beginning to regain some atom of sense, and, sitting up, was miserably asking what had happened, what was the matter now.

“Go and douse water over your damned worthless head, Mullan,” he heard the sergeant say, so Feeny was evidently alert as ever and must have heard the proposition from without.  At his feet, huddled close to the floor where the thick smoke was least distressing, Fanny and Ruth still clung to one another, the latter trembling at the sound of the voice from without.  But Fanny had quickly, eagerly, raised her head to listen.  For a moment no reply was made.  Then came the impatient query,—­

“Harvey, do you hear?  You have no time to lose.  You have but a minute in which to answer.”

“Major,” he burst forth at last in an agony of doubt, “you hear what they say, you see how I am fixed.  If I were here alone you would never need to ask my services, I’d fight with you to the bitter end; but think of my father,—­my mother if anything befall my sisters.  Can nothing be done?”

From the lips of the stricken paymaster there came only a groan in reply.

“I fear he cannot hold out long, Mr. Harvey,” muttered the clerk.  “I doubt if he heard or understood you.”

“Well, why not let them have the safe if they’ll guarantee that that is all they want?  How much have you there?  I feel sure my father would make it good.”

“There’s over twenty-five thousand dollars, Mr. Harvey.”

“Well, if it was only twenty-five cents, Mr. Ned Harvey, all I’ve got to say is, devil a wan of them would they get so long as I could load a shot or pull a trigger.  Go you if you will; take the leddies by all means if you think it safer; but before I’d trust the wan sister I ever had—­God rest her soul—­to the promise of any such blackguard party as this, I’d bury my knife in her throat.”

An awful stillness followed Feeny’s words.  For an instant there was no sound but quick-beating hearts, the mutterings and complainings of poor Mullan, staggering about in search of his carbine, the quickened breath and low moaning of poor old Plummer.  Then again came the loud hail from without.

“Once more, Ned Harvey, will you come out and be saved, or stay there and roast?  Surrender now and you’re all right; but, by the God of heaven, if you refuse, it’s the last chance for you or those you were fool enough to bring here.  Think for your sisters, man.  There’s no hope for one of you if you delay another minute.”