The tide of battle had flowed onward from the village to the Manse. The retreating party, consisting of the Minister's five sons, were driven back by force of numbers, contesting every inch of the ground. Hope had deserted them; and there now remained to them but the one chance--to reach the fortress of the Manse in safety, and seek the shelter of its great stone wall. The enemy numbered over a dozen; and the clangour and clamour of the pursuit waxed stronger as they pressed on the small and compact body of five. The weapons on both sides were stones picked up from the moorland road; and the terrible aim of the Whaup--the eldest of the Minister's boys--had disfigured more than one mother's …
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