“Ha! It ees you!” shrieked the Frenchman, and made a lunge at Henry with his hunting knife. But at that moment White Buffalo threw his tomahawk at Vascal. The rascal received a glancing blow that stretched him senseless. Then over his body rushed some Indians, and he was, for the time being, forgotten.
The coming of the Delawares was disconcerting to Jean Bevoir. It came at a moment when he had felt certain victory would soon rest with himself and Moon Eye. He and his followers were practically caught, some inside of the gateway and some outside, and knew not how to turn. A galling fire was poured into them by the newcomers, and fully a dozen Indians and Frenchmen went down never to rise again. Bevoir was hit in the shoulder and later received a knife stab in the side.
For fully ten minutes the battle continued, but then, as he saw his warriors being slaughtered, Moon Eye lost heart, and sounded the retreat. The Indians under him got out of the gateway as best they could and scattered to the right and left, some running along the river and others taking to the shelter of the forest.
“After them!” said White Buffalo, to his braves, in his native tongue. “Let not one of them escape. They are vile creatures, not fit to live, enemies of us all!” And away went his braves after the others, following Moon Eye’s men for over a mile and killing fully half of them. Moon Eye himself was struck by a bullet in the back and fell, and a few minutes later White Buffalo finished the rascal with his tomahawk.
As soon as they saw that their Indian allies were retreating, the Frenchmen also tried to retire. All told they now numbered five, including Jean Bevoir. They sneaked along the stockade until they came to a point nearest to the mighty forest and then made a break for the trees. Those at the post fired several shots after them, but these did no harm.
“Where is Jean Bevoir?” asked Joseph Morris, as the battle came to an end.
“He got away,” answered Barringford, who was panting from his exertions. “Drat the luck! He’ll come back, I reckon, to make more trouble for us some other time.”
“Dave, you are wounded,” said his uncle.
“It doesn’t matter,” answered the youth, bravely. “Oh, how glad I am that White Buffalo came up! We should have lost had it not been for him and his warriors.”
“He has gone after what’s left of the other redskins,” said one of the frontiersmen. “I hope he kills them all!”