"I was fool enough to attempt a down cut," he explained, observing my eyes upon him. "I tried it on that savage who lies yonder, and it was rather a neat stroke, yet has sorely nicked the blade."
"Where is the Puritan?" I asked, not seeing him.
"Stretched yonder at rest; he did needlessly exhaust himself, not knowing how best to wield his weapon. Sacre! he struck hard blows, and will have two savages for whom to make answer in the Day of Judgment."
"What loss did the fellows sustain?" I questioned, the cut at the edge of my hair half blinding me with dripping blood.
"We dropped seven between us, counting those who fell to your fire, and there are others who hardly appear in condition for further fighting. As to the garrison, you seem to possess a flesh wound or two, the head of the Puritan rings merrily yet from the tap of a war-club, while I boast a boot full of blood; 'tis none of it serious."
"They will attack again?"
"Ay! those lads are not of the breed to let up with one bite; and mark you, man, it is going to be the next turn that will test our mettle."
He deliberately changed his posture, glancing carelessly across his shoulder.
"Do you know aught regarding those devils, Master Benteen?"
"They are strange to me; no kin, I think, to any tribe east of the great river."