into his words. For a moment, John stood there, shocked. He called, more in bewilderment than anything else: 'Dave!'

There was a second burst of fire, and this time he ran to get Davey and Mary. He shouted to the others: 'Get into the ditch!' He saw that Arm was pulling Davey and Spooks down with her, and that Mary was already crouching in the ditch beside the road. He ran for it himself, and lay down beside them.

Mary said: 'What's happening, Daddy?'

'Where is it firing from?' Arm asked.

He pointed towards the fence. 'From there. Did everyone get clear? Who's that on the road? Pirrie!'

Pirrie's small body lay stretched across the camber of the road. There was blood underneath him.

Arm caught hold of John as he began to rise. 'No! You mustn't. Stay where you are. Think of the children me.'

'I'll get him away,' he said. 'They won't fire while I'm getting him away.'

Arm held on to him. She was crying; she called to Mary, and Mary also grasped his coat. While he was trying to pull himself free, he saw that someone else had got up from the ditch and was running towards where Pirrie lay. It was a woman.

John stopped struggling, and said in amazement:

'Jane!'

Jane put her hands under Pirrie's shoulders and lifted him easily. She did not look at the fence where the gun was mounted. She got one of his arms over her own shoulder and half dragged, half carried him to the ditch.

She eased him down beside John and sat down herself, taking his head in her lap.

Arm asked: 'Is he - dead?'

Blood was pouring from the side of his head. John wiped it away. The wound, he could see at once, was only superficial. A bullet had grazed his skull, with