"Caught you nicely, didn't I?" said Henry.
"Let poor Indian go," said the red man.
"Not just yet."
Henry turned toward the fire and prepared himself a cup of hot coffee. He had just taken one swallow of the beverage when there came a whistle from outside, followed by a shot.
"The attack must be on," he muttered, and catching up his rifle he darted away to where he had left his uncle. He found James Morris at the gates, with one bar already down.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Quick, Henry, two of the men are outside—the redskins are after 'em," answered the trader.
There was no need to say more, and Henry leaped to pull away the other bar. Only one gate was opened and through this dashed the two hunters who had gone out in the morning after the deer. Then the gate was again closed and barred.
"Jadwin fired the shot," said James Morris. "He saw the redskins coming after these men. Are you hurt?" he questioned of the hunters who had entered.
"Got a nip in the arm, that's all," answered one, Bill Lemington by name, who had drifted to the post from the Mohawk Valley. "We had to scoot for it though, I can tell you," he added, panting.