"Ready!" thrilled a sharp whisper from Swift Arrow, who had the guns close to his hand. Grim growled. This time the attack came with no forewarning until we saw the approach of the Chippewas, creeping stealthily forward through the snow. But as they came, arrows pattered around us from those behind, who covered their advance.
And this time, there was no stopping them. Five times did the Arrow fire, but then came a rush, and he had but time to draw his knife and put his tomahawk ready. I caught up one of the heavy fusils and swung it about my head, and then they were upon us—a mad swirl of men who seemed to spring out of the darkness and up the path to our ledge.
Now, when it came to hand-to-hand fighting, my great strength proved its worth. The Arrow had crawled to my side, and as only one or two men could reach us at a time, we managed to fling them back with gun-butt and tomahawk, while the shrill yell of the Mohawk rose madly over the shrieks of the Chippewas.
Time after time my heavy piece rose and fell, sometimes parried and sometimes not, while at my side glittered the steel of the old chief, rapid and deadly; but ever the voice of Gib urged on the warriors, and ever they pressed up that narrow path in mad resolve. On a sudden I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder, and the fusil dashed out of my hands against the rock wall as I staggered back.
An instant, and I had pulled out the knife with a shudder of pain, but that instant had been well-nigh fatal, for the Chippewas poured over us. Then, while I was still faint with the shock and the pain came Grim to the fore. Swift Arrow had risen to his feet, still plying his deadly steel desperately, when the great sheep-dog crouched and sprang, snarling and tearing in the midst of them beneath us.
The Chippewas fell back before him in wild affright, leaving two of their number at handgrips with us. One of these went down under the knife of the Mohawk; the other I seized by the throat and dashed back against the rock, where he lay silent. Then I whistled sharp and shrill, and Grim came back to me—bleeding and torn, but still not hurt unto death. So near had they come to taking us, that but for him we had assuredly perished.
But the Chippewas had not retreated far, and the evil tones of Gib showed me where he stood out there on the snow. The Arrow had fallen forward against the rock, helpless; when next they charged, his aid would be of no avail. And the blood was running fast from my shoulder, as I reloaded one of the weapons.
Gib was standing out in the center of the pass, and of a sudden I heard what seemed to be a bellow of rage, followed by a wild shriek from the Chippewas. Turning, I saw a mighty form leaping through the darkness—great horns outspread, giant shoulders rising high over the group of warriors, huge hoofs striking to right and left. In the dim light, I thought I saw Gib raise a musket, and for an instant the flash of it showed me the Mighty One himself, poised high in air as he leaped upon the terror-struck men.
Then all went dark again. One horrible, long-drawn shriek wailed out down the great cliffs as I raised my musket and aimed at the huge shape below, from which men fled every way. I fired, and saw it stumble forward over a smaller form in the snow; then I felt the faintness of my wound come upon me again, and had but strength enough to stagger back through the cave, meet the staring eyes of Radisson, and fall at the feet of Ruth. But as I fell, I heard from without the war-cry of Uchichak, and knew that the Mighty One had saved us; then I fell asleep, with the tongue of Grim hot on my cheek.