"Come away, Paul," said the shiftless one gently. "The good priest is dead. It's the livin' that need our help."
Bullets began to whistle from the thickets. The battle converged toward them again, and Paul knew that he was needed to help the others hold the little neck of land so important to all. A cannon shot shrieked over his head, and then another. Once more they were the focus of the combat. The forest in front of them sparkled as rapidly as before with beads of flame.
Paul rose reluctantly and turned away. The priest lay on his back, his face, pale and perfectly peaceful, upturned to the skies. Alvarez was a dozen yards away, but his figure, still forever, was motionless in the shadows. Paul did not bestow a glance upon him, but he gave Father Montigny a last long look of affection and sorrow as he turned away.
"Down, Paul, down!" cried Henry, when Paul and Shif'less Sol reached the others. "We saw what happened! You cannot do anything for him now!"
He dragged Paul down, and in an instant all of them turned their full energy to the defense. The attack upon them was renewed with uncommon fire and fury. The Indians and desperadoes wished to pass that particular neck of land in order that they might pour a storm of bullets upon the crippled fleet and the skirmishers who were yet coming in; but the little band, headed by Henry Ware, still held them back.
Henry looked once or twice toward the river and saw the boats hovering far out in the stream. He judged that, in the darkness and confusion, Adam Colfax no longer knew where the Kentuckians lay, and it was even possible that he might lose them entirely; but the fact did not shake Henry's resolve. It was vital that they should hold the neck, and he intended to do it. He and his comrades, lying close together, replied rapidly and with deadly aim to the fire in front of them, forming a compact little body, with blazing rifles, which the savage army was not yet able to displace.
The night darkened, there were signs of rain, induced perhaps, by so much firing; the moon was completely hidden by gathering clouds; the river became a black, flowing mass and the boats upon it blurred with its surface, save when they leaped into the light in the blaze of a cannon shot. The woods, too, seemed a solid, black wall, along the front of which rifle shots sparkled in clusters.
"Good boys! good boys!" exclaimed Henry in low tones, surcharged with excitement. He, too, had the mounting blood hot in his brain. All the old primeval passion was flaming in him. But the fire of the enemy converged nearer and nearer, and the bullets sang a ceaseless little song in his ears as they passed. "Ah!" he exclaimed as one struck him in the arm. But that was all he said. He went on with his loading and firing.
"Are you hit, Henry?" asked Shif'less Sol.
"A scratch! Nothing more! Look how Long Jim fights!"