Granny was already out of her chair, stick and rheumatism forgotten, and across the cabin with the agility of a cat.
“The bars—quick!” she panted, as she ran. “Get those bars across the door. I’ll take care of the window.” She slammed the shutter as she spoke. “Now the door to the lean-to—come, help me push the table against it. Now the settle—so!” She was everywhere at once, cap off, gray hair flying. “Don’t stand there, gaping! Here, take a shot through the shutter chink, even if you hit nothing. It’ll bring help.”
She herself was sighting carefully at one of the door portholes. There was a loud report, a choking grunt.
“There!” she said grimly. “I got him. They’re in the lean-to, they’ll be on the roof next. Um, I thought so!” She listened a moment, her eyes lifted, then darted to the bed, seized a pillow, slashed it open with the bread knife, and dumped the contents on the flames. A burst of smoke set them coughing. “Aha!” she muttered. “You would, would you? I’m onto your tricks, nasty devils! You’ll not get in the chimney way, so long as the feathers last. Shoot, girl, shoot, I tell you! Let ’em think we’ve men in here. We’ll stand them off till the neighbors come.”
She was reloading her flintlock with deft and steady hands. The girl, who had hitherto obeyed instructions like one dazed, stood irresolute in the center of the room, gazing from door to cradle, and back again. A tomahawk struck the door, came halfway through, and stuck, quivering.
“They’re too many of ’em, they’ll get in,” groaned Granny, shaking her fist at it. “But don’t give up, whatever happens to me—you hear? I can delay them awhile, maybe. You take the bread knife and fight for your life, Polly Todd—for more than your life, remember! Laugh, scream like one crazed—they spare mad folk sometimes. Fight ’em off tooth and nail, till help comes. Remember why! Your husband, the child⸺”
Step by step, Polly had moved toward the door. Over her shoulder she watched the old woman, who was at the window, her back turned, sighting for another shot. Her lip was drawn up so that the teeth showed. She shivered, slid the bars, and opened the door. Indians slipped past her and leaped upon the old woman. Polly screamed:
“No! Grandmother, look out! No!”
The last of the Indians to enter was a tall young chieftain, wearing a bonnet of gray eagle’s feathers. He lifted his hand with a gesture of quiet dignity, and spoke slowly and gravely:
“We know of old this white woman—her years and courage. Do not fear for her.”