Another shot, and another, and my heart seemed to leap as I felt that Morgan’s plan might not be long before execution after all, if the Indians made a desperate assault.
One minute before, the great enclosure was perfectly still, now it was all excitement; orders rang out; there was the tramp of armed men, as they hurried toward the spot from whence the firing had come.
Then came a shot from quite the opposite side, fresh orders were shouted, and there was a tramp of feet in that direction, the enemy evidently attacking in two places at once so as to divide our little force.
Flash after flash now cut the darkness to right and left, and we both stood listening to the quick orders and the curious ringing sound made by the ramrods as the men reloaded.
The firing was not rapid, our men seeming to have had instructions to be very careful and only fire when they saw a good chance; but it was kept up steadily, and it was evident that the Indians had not succeeded in gaining a footing as yet.
“Let’s run and tell my father what’s going on,” I said. “He’ll be so anxious.”
I made for the tent, with Pomp following, and found my father standing at the entrance, supporting himself on Hannibal’s arm.
“Ah, George, my boy,” he said, excitedly. “It’s hard not to be able to help. Who is at the front?”
“At the front?” I said, wonderingly.
“Yes. Is any one protecting the palisade between the two points attacked? Go and see how many are there; and if few, tell Colonel Preston to draw the General’s attention to the fact. If there are people there, ask his forgiveness for my interference. It is solely from anxiety for our safety.”