“Why, what can they do? They never can break through the door, and when daylight comes we can shoot them by dozens.”
“Depend upon it,” said I, “they will try to burn us out. The wind is high, which is all in their favour, and I suspect they are now gone to collect firewood.”
“And if they do fire the cabin, what shall we do? I never thought of that.”
“We must remain in it as long as we can, and then sally out and fight to the last; but every thing depends on circumstances. Be guided by me, and I will save you if I can.”
“Be guided by you!”
“Yes! Recollect I am not in chains now, and that although you have all the courage of a man, still you have not been so accustomed to warfare as I have been. I have long been accustomed to command, to plan, and to execute, in times of peril like this.”
“You have great strength and courage; I little thought what a lion I had chained up,” replied she. “Well, I love you all the better for it, and I will be guided by you, for I perceive already that you have the best head of the two. Hark! What is that?”
“It is what I said,” replied I; “they are laying firewood against the logs of the cabin on the windward side—(this was on the side opposite to the door). Now we must try if we cannot pick off some more of them,” said I, rising and taking a musket. “Bring the stools over to this side, for we must fire from the upper loop-holes.”
We remained at our posts for some time without seeing an Indian. They had gone back to the wood for more combustibles. At last we perceived them coming back with the wood. I should imagine there were at least twenty of them.
“Now, take good aim,” said I.