“Luk!” he said, in a wild whisper.
The object was where the starlight shone upon it. As the rest turned it disappeared from sight. At the same moment, shouts came from the right of the entrance, and a canoe was heard rounding the adjacent angle.
“Back!” whispered Scarred Eagle, in a tone of startling earnestness.
Quickly as the order was obeyed, the canoes had hardly turned, when the foremost was struck by another containing half a dozen Miami warriors.
Instantly a burst of wild yells rung out, and were echoed back from the adjacent banks; and, at the same instant, “crash! crash!” rung the blows of hatchets. There was no time to level a rifle; no time to push back into the cavern without a struggle.
Six against four! Unfortunately, Revel, at the first onset, received a blow which laid him powerless in the canoe. His fall, while it made the odds more fearful, caused the canoe to surge back, and at that moment Brom, pushing his rifle forward, fired, killing one of the assailants, who fell back into the water. The incident gave the other three time to snatch up their rifles; but by this time another canoe was approaching rapidly.
The rangers were not permitted to level their rifles, for the assailants, knowing that aid was at hand, recovered in time to beat down the weapons, springing in with their hatchets to the attack.
“That’s it—quick boy—git us apart!”
The hoarse exclamation of Scarred Eagle, as with his two companions, he made almost superhuman efforts to beat back the assailants. The endeavors of Brom were somewhat aided by Revel, who began to recover from the effects of the blow. Even then, it seemed impossible to get clear of the assailants before the latter should receive aid. But suddenly their canoe was tipped backward by an unseen hand, and the warriors, losing their balance, tumbled into the water. One of them was dispatched by Mace. At that moment, a form appeared beside Brom’s canoe, and a voice shouted:
“Me—White Fox—take in quick—Goodbrand!”