“They are too many for us, Marcus,” said Father Nat; “they are murdering our people wholesale down yonder. Good Heavens! they are setting fire to the barns; they’ll burn the village down!”
“I’m afraid they will,” said Marcus. Even whilst speaking they had not ceased firing. With a score of other men they were crouching behind the trees in the garden, just in front of Omega Marsh. Other groups were scattered here and there, protecting the homestead. The dead and wounded lay around, but the assailants still came on, the circle narrowing as they pressed forward.
“Where is Loïs?” asked Father Nat.
“Here,” she answered; and raising her gun, she fired over his shoulder at an Indian, who had leapt to within a yard of them.
“We must back into the house and bar the doors,” she said; “it is our only chance.”
“I think she’s right,” said the minister, and slowly they began to move backwards. A yell of delight from the savages greeted this retrograde movement, and one leapt forward, and, raising his tomahawk, would have brought it down on Father Nat’s head, if a thrust from a knife had not made the uplifted arm drop helpless, and with a shriek of agony the man sprang back. At the same moment Loïs felt herself lifted from the ground and carried into the house. With a sudden rush the others followed her. To bolt and bar the doors and windows of the ground floor was the work of a few seconds. Some of the men had ascended to the first story, and were firing from the windows upon the savages.
“We can only hold out a certain time,” said John Cleveland; “and even that depends upon their being kind enough not to set fire to the place.”
It seemed very unlikely that the Indians would refrain from doing so. The village was burning; and by the light of the flames the terrible fight which was going on below and around was clearly visible.
It was evident they had some reason for not setting fire to the homestead, probably the desire of taking the inhabitants alive for the purpose of torturing them “Father Nat” more especially, their anger being directed against Roger. The house was strongly built, the doors and windows secured by heavy iron bars, and so far the savages had been kept at bay by the incessant firing of the beleaguered. Suddenly they appeared to retreat, making a rush round to the back of the house. At the same moment Nadjii stood by the side of Loïs.
“See!” she whispered. “Roger;” and even as she spoke, running swiftly up the hill with shouts of “Hurrah, hurrah!” they saw the well-known red shirts of the Rangers.