The man who had been hurt came up at this moment and gave Bantry the rifle and ammunition.
“Now, ’square, see here,” he said; “you watch me when I fire the first shot, and if it don’t seem to you that I’ve tried to hit my man, I give you leave to shoot me, that’s all. This is a good rifle, chummy—she hangs true as a die, and I can knock the black out of a buffler’s eye at twenty rods with her.”
At this moment one of the sentries outside the barricade gave the signal, and all were immediately upon the alert. Melton took the charge of Bantry upon himself, and gave him a place in the middle of the barricade, and took his station beside him. The sentries came stealing in like silent specters, and placed themselves beside the rest in silence, waiting for the advance of the Indians.
They had not long to wait, for a tufted head was cautiously protruded from behind a tree, and a pair of brilliant eyes looked keenly at the island. Evidently he saw something out of the way, for he stepped out in full view of the fort and advanced to within twenty feet of the barricade.
“That man must not go back,” said Melton, in a whisper, touching Tom Bantry on the arm, “and no rifle must be fired. Can you fetch him?”
Bantry caught up a knife and hatchet, and sprung from the barricade so suddenly that the Indian had no time to cock his gun before the fiery boatman was upon him. They closed with fierce energy, a short struggle ensued, and then Tom Bantry arose, leaving the Indian dead at his feet.
“Well done, Bantry,” said Melton, as the man came back his face scarcely flushed by the desperate struggle in which he had been engaged. “You will do very well without watching.”
“I’ve got to fight,” replied Tom, coolly. “It won’t do for me to be caught, I tell you.”
By this time the Indians and disguised boatmen began to show themselves through the woods, and the scout opened upon them at once, and they skulked to the shelter of the bushes. But the men who had come up with the desperado Garrett did not know the word fear, and only waited for the orders of their superior to advance to the assault.
“They are fighting chickens, Cap; game birds, every man, now you mind what I say,” said the deserter. “They’ll fight like bulldogs, but they’d do better if Black Will was here.”