On the edge of the forest Moon Eye waited with the majority of the savage warriors under him. He saw the gate quiver and splinter, and then, as there came another onslaught, ordered his braves to advance. On they came, yelling like demons, and sending a flight of arrows over the stockade.
Sam Barringford was in his element, and from a loophole nearest to the gate he continued to shoot at the Frenchmen. But some of the attackers had stuck slabs of wood into their girdles in front, and these slabs acted as shields.
“They are coming again!” cried Dave. He stood with his eye to a loophole, his gun smoking from a recent discharge. “They are bound to get in.”
“Look at the Indians!” shrieked one of the frontiersmen. “They have been reinforced! There must be half a hundred of them!”
“If they come in, perhaps we had better retreat to the main building,” suggested Joseph Morris. “We cannot stand up against more than twice our own number.”
The Indians who had been making the demonstration in the rear of the trading post, now came around to the front. At the same time the Frenchmen prepared for a last attack on the gate. On they came with a force that nothing could resist. Crash! came the battering ram and snap! crash! went the gate, the oaken bars splitting and breaking and sending a shower of splinters over those behind. Then the gate went down in the snow and mud.
“’Tis down! ’Tis down!” Frenchmen and Indians gave a cheer and a yell. Those who had been handling the battering ram stepped to one side, and on swept the warriors under Moon Eye, straight for the opening that had been created in the stockade.
“Hold ’em back!” yelled Sam Barringford, stepping to the center of the gateway. “Give it to ’em hot! Don’t let a skunk o’ ’em git in!” And he blazed away at one of the leading Indians. The warrior pitched headlong and the man behind went down on top of him.
Dave, his uncle, and many of the others, also fired, and four of the red warriors were either killed or mortally wounded. There was a brief pause, and then Moon Eye urged his braves to go on.
“Yes! yes!” yelled Jean Bevoir. “At zem! At zem! Keel zem all! A big, big reward shall be yours if ve capture ze post!”