"We must do the best we can, Barry." "We'll do better than that, plaze God," said I.
Then followed an anxious council of war.

Besides our two selves, there were my lady and three maid-servants in the house.

Mistress Gorman was too nervous and delicate to count upon for help, but the maids were all three sturdy wenches.

So our garrison was five souls, and, counting the two guns I had brought, there were eight stands of arms and ammunition to match in the house.
The danger to be feared was not so much from the invaders' shooting as from the possibility of their carrying out their threat to fire the house.

Our only hope seemed to lie in frightening them off at the onset by as formidable a show of resistance as possible.