"Boom! Boom!" they challenged. "Make noise!"
They were massed, capering and mocking. Captain Sullivan lowered the fire-brand. The little "bull-dog" belched smoke.
"Boom!" A hail of grape-shot tore through the painted ranks, leaving a bloody path. Captain Pratt rushed in, waving his sword.
"Stand back! Stand back, you fools!" he bawled. "By Jupiter, there's no wood about that!"
And there wasn't. It was the genuine article.
The Indians had wildly scampered for safety. Simon Girty and the other chiefs white and red rallied them and divided them into parties, with due care for the cannon-piece. From every exposed side they volleyed at the fort and the Zane cabin. They charged and fell back and charged again. In fort and cabin the rifles, deftly loaded by the fast-working women and girls, waxed hot.
With darkness the general firing died down. Under the cloak of night an Indian crept to the kitchen end of the cabin, to start a blaze. The cabin had proved a great hindrance to the attack on the fort.
He rose to his knees, to wave his torch for an instant and rekindle it—
"Crack!" This kitchen, added to the cabin, was the fort of Negro Sam and Negress Kate. Sam had eyes and ears that equaled any Indian's, by day or night either.
"Hi yah! How you like that, you Injun man!"