THE RIFLES SPOKE THROUGH THE PORT-HOLES
With cold precision the rifles spoke through the port-holes, and in each case a yell told of a warrior hit. But the Shawnees were not idle. Unseen, they had borne with them great armfuls of dry brush; under the fire of the rifles they heaped them against the door of the cabin. Like cats others scaled the walls and gained the roof.
The first flare of the fire when the brush was ignited acted badly for the Shawnees, however. Apparently they had failed to foresee that they would be thrown into full relief by the glare; at any rate the deadly rifles of the whites swept a rain of lead among them, and a dozen fell to the earth. Enraged, the remainder charged the house, brandishing tomahawks and scalping knives; bowstrings sang and rifles cracked; the flames about the door mounted higher and higher.
Calmly the backwoodsmen went about the work of defense; steadily they loaded and fired; watchfully they peered through the port-holes.
But up to this time all had failed to hear those savages who had mounted to the roof. Safe out of the fire of the deadly rifles, a half score braves were here collected, cunningly planning their next move.
At one end of the log house there was a wide-mouthed chimney, built of green wood and thickly lined with mud. The fire over which the settlers’ supper had been cooked had died down and peering down the smooth interior of this shaft, the Shawnees grinned with dreadful satisfaction.
“That fire outside there is taking hold,” said old Mr. Curley below in the big room of the cabin. “The timber in the door is heavy, but as dry as tinder.”
Anxiously the men looked at each other; the faces of the women were fearful. And in this tense moment there came a scrambling sound, a cloud of dust arose from the fireplace together with a shower of dull sparks. A woman screamed as the tufted head of an Indian appeared in the great fireplace to be followed an instant later by another and still another.
CHAPTER X
A NIGHT EXPERIENCE
Following the scream of the woman, Eph Taylor turned around. He was the first of the riflemen to catch sight of the intruders. Like a flash the eye of Jerusha ceased to stare upon the wild scenes going on outside; it swept inward and the crack of the good rifle spoke the death of a Shawnee. Oliver’s piece accounted for another; two more fell in the act of braining a defender with their hatchets.