"That comes of havin' Injun experience," said Jacob, resuming, and sending a nod in Steve's direction. "It warn't Injuns. All the same, when thar's bullets flyin', reckon one don't sit still thinkin'. I was off my hoss in a jiffy, gettin' cover under the stockade. Then I put my hands to my mouth and sent the folks in the house, whoever they might be, the shout we was used to give in them parts. Heard it?"
He did not wait for an answer, but put his hands at once to his lips, and sent forth a halloo which awoke the echoes.
"Thar ain't no mistake about a call like that," said Jacob, decision in his tones, "and the folks in that shanty couldn't help but know that it was a white man outside, one as was friendly."
"And so the shootin' stopped," suggested Tom.
"Wrong. A bit of a bullet kicked a stone at my feet and sent me howlin'. Reckon a flint can hurt most same as a bullet. Anyway, that 'ere stone give me a blow that staggered me. And after it half a dozen shots rang out from the shanty."
"What in thunder did it all mean?" asked one of the men.
"And then there was a shout, an answerin' shout."
"Yes," said Steve, edging a trifle closer, "an answerin' shout."
"A woman's shout. A shrill sort of a scream. A thing you couldn't call a shout, but there ain't no other name as I knows of."
Jacob looked round at his audience questioningly, while each one of the party wore a different expression on his face.