I set about re-charging my rifle without giving heed to the rush which should have followed the shot, and dimly, as if it was something in which I had no concern, I heard the report of another rifle; another cry which seemed but the echo of my own.
Before my feverish brain had taken in all this as a fact, I was ready to shoot again, and never had I aimed with more deliberation. I felt certain this second bullet of mine would find its target, and when it sped on its way I needed not to gaze at the be-feathered brute within range to know that he was dead or disabled.
The brute fell as though struck by lightning, and a cry of triumph rang from my lips.—Page 62. On the Kentucky Frontier.
Again came what was like the echo of my own gun, and I saw four of the villains on the ground, while the others had made for the nearest shelter, each seeking some tree trunk that would shelter his worthless body.
Now I realized that I had come up nearly opposite where Simon Kenton was stationed, and he it was who had fired immediately after my rifle spoke.
Thus attacked on either hand, the savages must have believed they were beset by a large force, and their only desire was to shelter themselves from the deadly fire.
While loading my rifle I looked for an instant at the boy. His eyes were opened wide; his lips parted as if to cry out, and on his face was an expression of mingled hope and doubt painful in its intensity.
Again I saw a target. Twenty paces away was one of the brutes leaping from tree to tree as if striving to gain the river, and him I stopped on the instant.