Camotte had been sent to the village of the Huron Bisons to Numank-Charake, and Bright-eye, to ask for the assistance of all the warriors of the tribe who could be spared.
On the other hand, Tom Mitchell, at the head of his most daring companions, had placed himself in a position to be at hand at anytime. But if the defence had been well arranged, the attack was most fierce and desperate; the redskins fought like demons; brave, well armed, and counting on the vast superiority of their numbers, the Indians rushed to the charge against the intrenchments with a ferocity quite unusual.
These intrenchments had been hastily thrown up, and could not long resist such an attack.
Tubash-Shah, at the head of a picked band of warriors, did wonders. He was a host in himself.
The struggle became at one time so desperate that Tom Mitchell himself began to despair; then it was that he dashed off to the hut of Lagrenay, and called to arms all who were collected together in deliberation.
Then he started again at the head of the reinforcement, like a storm cloud on the wing.
Again the combat seemed desperate.
The war cry of the American Indians and the hurrahs of the whites were mixed with the fusillade.
Then a rush of horse was heard, an awful war whoop, and three hundred warriors, led by Numank-Charake, Bright-eye, and Camotte, appeared on the scene.
Tom Mitchell gave a cry of joy.