Their second fire revealed to the Tabagauches the direction whence the attack proceeded, and with maddening yells of rage they sprang after them.
"Save yourselves;" cried Howe, but he had no need to give the order, for every one had placed a tree between himself and his foes, according to the custom of warfare with Indians, and as they came on, every moment, one or more fell by their unerring aim. They had the advantage, for the Tabagauches were between them and the light, and could be picked off as fast as the guns could be loaded, while they rushed headlong into the darkness, their only guide the flash from the rifles that were thinning their ranks at every fire. But, as the savages gathered closer and closer around them, they were obliged to fall back towards the pine grove, and as time after time they retreated into the darkness, they could distinguish their foes with less certainty, and finally they were obliged to make a scattered flight to save themselves from being surrounded. Strange to tell not one of them had been wounded, which could be only accounted for by the gloom, in which they were enveloped, hiding them from an accurate aim. They were sure fifty of their foes had been slain.
The Tabagauches retreated to their camp, putting out the fires and keeping silent, so as not to guide their foes a second time to them.
On gaining the pine grove, a council was held to devise what was the most prudent step to take.
"I," said Whirlwind, "think it best to hover around them and find out their next movement and guide ours by it."
"That is impossible," said Mr. Duncan. "They will be so on their guard that no one can approach without detection, which would be instant death."
"Whirlwind has said and will do it. Here await his return." So saying, with noiseless strides the chief vanished in the gloom.
"A strange compound of generosity, bravery, and recklessness!" said Mr. Duncan.
"Depend upon it, he knows what is for the best," replied Howe.
"Then you think we had better not take any step until the chief returns?"