"Give them a shot the moment you get the chance."
"You may be sure I will," replied Jo, who was just able to catch a glimpse of the moon, which seemed to be struggling to free itself from the clouds that were smothering it.
Colonel Preston and Ned also shoved their guns through the loopholes, so as to be ready to fire the instant the opportunity offered.
Jo had indicated the exact place, so that their gaze was turned to the right point. The Wyandots were not forgetful of the uncertain light which alternately favored and opposed them. When, therefore, the eyes were directed toward the proper point, nothing was seen but the sharply pointed pickets pointing upward, and which looked as difficult to scale as the spiked fences of modern days.
"They're there," whispered Jo, "and when you see a head, blaze away at it."
The words were yet in his mouth, when the outlines of a tufted crown appeared above the stockade, where the Wyandot paused, as if peeping over. Then a second was outlined at his elbow, the two remaining stationary a full minute.
"Don't shoot just yet," whispered Stinger.
Ned wondered why the delay was suggested, after his previous instruction; but, a moment after, the two Wyandots, no doubt with the assistance of others, suddenly rose higher, so that their shoulders and bodies were dimly seen. They were climbing over the stockade.
"Now!" said Jo Stinger.
All three fired, and the red men instantly vanished. It was almost impossible to take fair aim, but it looked as if the warriors had been "hit hard."