“Keep cool, then. Now, Injuns! Another run for it—quick!”
A dash was made after the Beaver to a fresh patch of cover, and the firing from above and below became so fierce that the position grew one of dire extremity.
“Look out, my lads!” cried the frontiersman; “they’re getting together for a rush. You must each bring down your man.”
There was no mistaking the plan of the Indians now, and Bart could see them clustering into some bushes just at the foot of the mountain where it ran perpendicularly down, forming part of the canyon wall. They seemed to be quite thirty strong, and a bold rush must have meant death to the little party, unless they could reach the chimney; and apparently the savages coming up from below had advanced so far that the Beaver had not been able to seize that stronger point.
“Keep cool, Master Bart. We must stand fast, and give ’em such a sharp fire as may check them. As soon as we’ve fired, you make a run for it, my lad, straight for the chimney. Never mind anybody else, but risk the firing, and run in and climb up as fast as you can.”
“And what about you, Joses?” asked Bart.
“I’ll stop and cover your retreat, my lad; and if we don’t meet again, tell the Doctor I did my best; and now God bless you! good-bye. Be ready to fire.”
“I’m ready, Joses, and I shan’t go,” replied Bart firmly.
“You won’t go? But I order you to go, you young dog!” cried Joses, fiercely.
“Well, of all the—look out, Beaver! Fire, Master Bart! Here they come!”