THE STEADFAST HEART
“Bar the door!… Get down your father’s gun.”
Angus crawled to the door and shot the bolt. He moved against it a wooden bench…. Then he took from its pegs his father’s rifle and dragged it along the floor to the table where his mother crouched.
“It’s loaded,” she whispered, and moved Angus’s chair to face the door, placing the table between. “Lay the gun across the table. Aim at the door…. If anybody comes and I say shoot—shoot!”
Mrs. Burke's terror now equaled her son’s. No longer was she gruesomely play-acting. The play had become actual. They were in danger of their lives from lurking robbers, flesh and blood miscreants who besieged them in their shanty, lusting for their blood…. The woman’s mouth sagged, the whites of her eyes showed under distended lids, and her voice rattled in her throat. She retreated to a murky corner jibbering, leaving Angus on guard…. It is to be noted that he remained on guard, finger on trigger, eyes upon the door. Even though he was beside himself with fear, he did not desert his post, did not cower in a corner as his mother cowered…. He could hear her jibbering and mouthing behind him.
“They’re coming. I know they’re coming.
18
