They could not stop him. He spurred at a mad run, straight as an arrow, hoping to take the enemy by surprise.
"Open the gate! Open the gate!" he shouted, as he neared.
He was seen, and heard. The gate swung for him. Would he make it? He waved his hat and flourished his rifle—hurrah! He was almost there; a few strides more—but to a burst of smoke from the outlying cabins and copse he fell headlong, dead. His horse galloped riderless.
The cannon accident had infuriated the Indians to the last degree. They were especially bent upon taking the Zane cabin, which held them off. Within the cabin matters were tightening up. The powder was getting low. The drain upon it had been constant.
"We must have powder, boys," spoke Colonel Zane. "The fort will supply us. Who'll go and fetch it on the run?"
There were looks. Betty Zane heard and stepped forward.
"I'll go, brother Eb. You can't spare a man."
"No, you sha'n't, Betty. It's man's work. Besides, you're not fast enough on your feet, child."
Her black eyes flashed. She was a splendid girl, high-spirited and active; had been raised on the frontier and was a pet of her brothers.
"I shall go. I can run like a deer, you've often said, and I can't be of any better use. If I get hurt, that'll make no difference; but if you lose a man, you lose a rifle. Tell me what to do."