At the same moment Levi Pope said, "Well, here be a sight to welcome."
Ten feet or so behind him a line of men in coonskin caps and gray shirts were methodically firing over his head. He'd been so lost in panic and despair he hadn't heard them coming.
He looked back at the Indians. Brown bodies lay tumbled on the ground, some only a few feet from his barricade. Those on their feet were backing up. They melted into the tattered forest.
For a moment Raoul could not move. He lay clutching his rifle with a grip so hard it hurt his hands, panting heavily.
"It's safe now," Levi Pope said quietly, standing up.
Raoul pushed himself to his feet. His legs were shaking so hard he could barely stand. He looked around and saw militiamen wading across to the island from the east bank of the Mississippi.
The men who had been skirmishing in the forest north of the Bad Axe must have seen the fighting on the island.
Too dazed even to feel happy, Raoul stood taking long breaths and watched the militiamen come.
He had never in his life needed a drink more than he did now, and he had forgotten to bring any whiskey with him.