Jill sat up and listened for a moment, then threw himself doggedly back again on his pillow.
“Jill!” I roared, shaking him viciously, “get up, you silly sleepy boy. The Indians are on us.”
Jill appeared fairly roused now. He sprang up and began to hurry on his dress.
We, that is Peter and I, got our revolvers and stuck them in our belts—they were always kept loaded; then we took our swords and sallied out.
“Follow quick, Jill,” were my last words to my brother. “Look out for me and get to my side. We may have to do a bit more back to back work.”
We saw at a glance that it was Northern Indians with whom we had to deal, and quite a large party.
The fight was raging fiercely. Peter and I overtook Ritchie and Lawlor hurrying into the fray, and joined them. Castizo was already there. We could hear his stern words of command, and we noticed too that his revolver emptied many a saddle. Our people were fighting on foot, but fighting well and bravely. The women and children had already fled to the forest.
We came up at the right time, evidently, and the volleys we poured in created the greatest confusion in the ranks of the enemy. They seemed staggered for a little while, and made as if to retreat, but were rallied and came on once more to the charge.
How long we fought I could not say; it might have been ten minutes, or it might have been half an hour.
Suddenly there was a momentary lull, and I looked about me for Jill. He was nowhere to be seen. I shouted to Peter. He had not seen him. I extricated myself from the mêlée as best I could, and hurried back to the log-house. The poor foolish fellow must have gone to sleep again. As it happened, this is precisely what he had done. But, to my horror, I found the log-house surrounded by smoke. It was on fire.