We had realized all day, while building the block house, that we were watched by the Indians, and that whenever a favorable opportunity was presented, they would make a dash upon us. The dusk of the evening now favored them, and I think they understood what we were doing. But the movement on their part was premature, for it was still light enough to enable us to see an Indian anywhere in the clearing.
"Run for the block house!" said Kit Cruncher, leading the way with long strides.
It was only a few rods distant, and we rushed in before the savages were near enough to use their rifles, which were not of the best quality. Our four weapons rested against the palisades, loaded and ready for instant service.
"Shut the gate, boy," continued Kit, as he thrust the muzzle of his rifle through a loophole.
I closed and barred the gate with the heavy timber I had prepared for the purpose. Before I had done so, Kit fired, and I heard an awful yell from the savages.
"There goes one of them," said Mr. Mellowtone.
"I shall fotch down one every time I shoot," replied Kit, calmly, as he picked up the rifle of old Matt. "Load my piece, boy, and be sure you ram the ball home."
"They have come to a halt," added Mr. Mellowtone, as he discharged his rifle.
"You didn't hit nothin', Mr. Mell'ton," said Kit, quietly, as he gazed through the loophole in front of him.
"I see that I missed my aim that time. Well, it's too late now; they are running away again."