When the sun rose it found the pioneers still on guard. All were much worn by what they had passed through, yet nobody felt like lying down to sleep. Strong coffee and hearty rations were served, and Boone divided his force into two parties, one to remain on guard, and the other to take it easy until another alarm should sound out.
So far there had been but one man killed and two wounded, including Harry. The wounded youth lay resting quietly, and Mrs. Parsons was close by, ready to minister to his wants so far as her limited means permitted.
Slowly the hot July day passed. In the stockade it was almost suffocating, and one girl fainted from the heat. But water was plentiful and cool, and nobody complained.
It was not until the middle of the afternoon that the Indians massed their forces for a final assault. On they came yelling and whooping like demons, and again the arrows flew all around and in the stockade. Large stones were also hurled at the fort, and more than a score of the red men climbed into the nearby trees, and tried to pick off the whites from these points of vantage.
The red men in the trees could hardly be seen, and to make sure of them Daniel Boone had half a dozen muskets heavily loaded with buckshot.
In the old-fashioned bores of that period this shot scattered itself over a wide space, and the Indians came down from the trees in a hurry, some literally “peppered” to death, and all more or less wounded.
“Gosh! but this beats bird huntin’,” observed Pep Frost. “See ’em tumble. Whoop! but it’s jest the thing!” And he let drive another dose of the shot.
Down at the east end of the fort the fight was more desperate than it had been for the whole two days. Six or seven of the red men succeeded in climbing the stockade, and a fierce hand-to-hand struggle ensued, in which four were thrown down and mortally wounded. The other two ran toward the heavy gate, with the idea of throwing off the bars and opening the barrier.
“No you don’t!” cried Daniel Boone, and with a few leaps he was on the red men. Each threw a tomahawk at the old hunter. But he dodged the weapons, and sent one Indian to the earth by a blow from his gun-stock. Then he grappled with the other fellow, and both rolled on the ground.
“Boone is down!” cried a woman, and, turning, Joe saw the struggle that was taking place. He ran for the spot with all speed, and just as the Indian was trying to stab Daniel Boone with his hunting knife the youth kicked out and struck the enemy in the head, completely stunning him. Then Boone arose, and another blow put the red man out of the fight forever.