He had arranged it so that the men fought in couples. While one fired the other was reloading his gun; and thus there was always a detail capable of sending in a volley, should it be desperately needed.
Bob and Sandy crouched low, doing manful work, though filled with unspeakable dread lest the Indians should rush the camp, carrying all before them.
"Are they retreating, brother?" asked Sandy at length, after this riot of terrible sounds had been going on for what seemed an age.
"I think it must be so," returned Bob, hardly able to believe the truth himself. "Their shouts seem to be further away; and the arrows have stopped falling!"
"Oh! I wonder what damage has been done, and if—" But even the stout-hearted Sandy dare not voice the fear that was in his soul, for his thoughts had turned to the beloved father and the two others who crouched back of that poor shelter of logs.
Were any of them injured?
"Lights! Start the fire, so that we can see what damage has been done!" called the leader of the emigrant band; and almost like magic tinder was ignited, to be applied to the fires prepared against this time of need.