Crack! crack! bang! went the rifles and shotguns, and at the first irregular volley three of the Indians were killed outright and five others badly wounded. In those days powder and ball were scarce, and no man discharged his weapon unless he was tolerably sure of his aim.
“Forward!” cried Daniel Boone, and led the way, reloading as he ran.
The red men had not yet thrown out their guards for the night and were taken completely by surprise. As the shots rang out and so many of their number fell, the others were almost panic-stricken.
“The palefaces! the palefaces!” they cried, and ran for their bows and arrows and other weapons.
Colonel Boone knew well how to fight Indians and had given instructions to make as much noise as possible. Consequently the hunters under him came onward with many loud yells and shrieks, uttered in all sorts of tones, giving the red men the impression that the attacking party numbered a hundred or more.
Guns and pistols were discharged and reloaded with all possible speed, and as the whites drew closer they brought forth their tomahawks and hunting knives. It was Boone himself who leaped to the rescue of Paul Broker, closely followed by Mr. Winship and others. Joe ran straight to his sister Cora.
Realizing that the battle was against them the Indians made but a feeble resistance, and then those who were able did what they could to escape across the valley to the hills.
As one tall red man dashed past the captives he aimed a blow with his tomahawk at Cora. But before the hatchet could reach the girl’s head Joe swung around the butt of his gun and struck the Indian’s arm a crushing blow, breaking that member and causing the tomahawk to fall to the ground.
“Joe! Joe!” burst from Cora Winship’s lips. She could not say more.
Some of the Indians attempted to reach the horses, but were blocked and two others were shot down. Then the rest ran in all directions, their only idea being to hide themselves under cover of the coming night.