"But one man can be spared to go, you say, Colonel Sheppard," she remarked. "In my opinion no man can be spared to go. Let me go for the powder. My life is of much less importance to the garrison than that of a man."
Colonel Sheppard looked at her with eyes of admiration, and then peremptorily refused her request. This was work for men, he said, not for women. She should not sacrifice herself.
It was every one's duty to do their share, she replied. All were alike in danger. The walls were not half manned. If she fell, the gap would be small; if a man fell, it would be large.
So earnest were her solicitations, and so potent her arguments, that Colonel Sheppard finally yielded a reluctant consent. It was given none too soon. There was little time to spare. The gate was opened and the brave woman walked fearlessly out.
She had not gone a step beyond the shelter of the fort before the Indians perceived her. Yet the suddenness of her appearance seemed to paralyze them. They stood and watched her movements, as she walked swiftly but steadily over the space leading to her brothers' house, but not a gun was lifted nor a voice was raised. So far the expedient of sending a woman had proved unexpectedly successful. The savages gazed at her in blank amazement, wondering at her purpose.
She entered the house. An anxious minute or two passed. The Indians still had not stirred. The eyes of the garrison were fixed with feverish anxiety on the door of that small hut. Then they were relieved by the reappearance of the devoted girl, now clasping the precious keg of powder in her arms.
It was no time now to walk. As rapidly as she could run, with the weight in her arms, she sped over the open space. Speed was needed. The Indians had suddenly come to a realizing sense of the woman's purpose, and a volley of bullets swept the space over which she fled.
Not one touched her. In a minute she had reached the fort. A shout of enthusiastic welcome went up. As the gate closed behind her, and she let fall the valuable prize from her unnerved arms, every hand was stretched to grasp hers, and a chorus of praise and congratulation filled the air.
"We have a heroine among us; we will all be heroes, and conquer or die," was the universal thought.
It was a true one; Elizabeth Zane's was one of those rare souls which seem sent on earth to make man proud of his race.