"My white friends have been slow in coming up," said the chief. "They have lost precious time. The enemy are on every side. It will be no easy task for White Buffalo to lead his friends to the fort."
"We made as much haste as we could," said Rodney. The rough ride was beginning to tell upon him and he was almost ready to pitch from the saddle through sheer weakness.
A few words more followed, and the trail through the forest was resumed, some of the Indians going ahead and others, including White Buffalo, bringing up the rear, to keep back the advance of any who might be following from the burning cabin.
They were still two miles from the fort when some of the Indians in the front sounded a note of warning. But this was not needed for a minute later they fell in with a neighbor also bound for the fort. This neighbor had with him his two sons, two daughters and his sick wife, whom they were carrying on a litter.
"No Injuns around here as yet," said the neighbor, whose name was Larkwell. "But they are coming jest as fast as they can. We can't git to the fort none too soon."
CHAPTER IX
GATHERING AT FORT LAWRENCE
Fort Lawrence was little more than a fort in name only. It was a spot selected by the Morrises and others living within a radius of one to twenty-two miles, where they might congregate for safety at any time when the way to Will's Creek or Winchester should be cut off.
The fort was located at a point where two small streams joined. Here the brushwood and trees had been cleared off for a distance of little over an acre. Some trees, running in a semi-circle from one brook to the other, had been left standing, and between these a rude stockade had been planted of logs, ten to twelve feet high and sharp-pointed at the top. Along the two watercourses were a series of rough rocks and on top of these other rocks had been placed, making a barrier almost as high as the wooden one opposite. In the wooden stockade and among the rocks, port holes were placed, so that those inside could command every avenue of approach with their firearms. To the whole there was a rude gateway, but as yet no gate further than some heavy brushwood piled conveniently near,—thorn-brush, which all Indians despised.