"I say you're right," replied the shiftless one.
"Then we'll let the Independence take the lead for a while," said Henry, "and burn their faces a little for their impudence."
The boat turned and slid gently away toward the southern shore. The light cast from the fires was brightest in the middle of the stream, and they were soon in half shadow.
"Can you make 'em out clearly, Sol?" asked Henry.
"If I ain't mistook, an' I know I ain't," replied the shiftless one, "thar's a little bunch o' canoes right thar at the overhangin' ledge."
"Sol is shorely right," added Tom Ross, "an' I kin reach the fust canoe with a bullet."
"Then let 'em have it," said Henry.
Silent Tom raised his rifle, and with instant aim fired. An Indian uttered a cry and fell from his canoe into the water. Henry and the shiftless one fired with deadly aim, and Long Jim and Paul followed. There was terror and confusion among the canoes, and the survivors, abandoning them, dashed up the bank and into the darkness.
They reloaded their rifles, scattered some canoes further up, and then swung back to the fleet, which was still going forward at the same steady, even pace under a ceaseless shower of bullets. It was here that Adam Colfax best showed his courage, tenacity, and judgment. Although his men were being slain or wounded, he would not yet let them return the fire, because there was no certainty that they could do any damage among the warriors in the forest. He might have fired the brass twelve pounders, and they would have made a great noise, but it would have been a waste of powder and ball badly needed in the east.
He had run more than one blockade, but this awed even his iron soul. The note of the Indian yell was more like the scream of a savage wild beast than the sound of a human voice, and the mingling of the thunder and lightning with all this noise of battle shook his nerves. But his will made them quiet again, and from the deck of the Independence he continually passed back the word: "Push on! push on! But don't reply to their fire."