“Yes, yes—in a minute we’ll save you,” shouted young Harmon, and when the gate flew open he was the first to leap forward.
As he did so, full twenty dark forms rose from behind as many stumps, and the next second, a volley poured in at the gate.
Two of the rescuers staggered back, and Mark Harmon, uninjured, but with a wounded girl in his arms, turned to the gate again.
“Quick! they are charging you!” shouted a dozen agonized voices from the upper portion of the block-house; but such words were unnecessary, for the men at the gate comprehended their danger.
The clearing seemed literally covered with savages, and between the foremost and the bordermen a terrible fight was progressing at the palisades. A volley was poured into the red ranks from the port-holes, and a number fell; but the greater portion of the settlers had rushed below, and were trying to beat the red-skins from the gate that it might be closed.
At last, after half an hour of the most desperate fighting on record, the ponderous gate was swung to again and barred; and with blows indicative of future vengeance, on the heavy oaken boards, the Indians retreated to cover.
Twelve of their number had fallen in the attack, while no less than ten of the bordermen, or one fourth of the fort’s defenders, lay dead between the palisades and the strong logs.
But the mission of humanity had resulted in success!
Levi Armstrong, his daughter Huldah, and the Logan girls were safe, for a while at least, behind strong timbers; but the yells of their foes told the settlers that the Wyandot looked upon his defeat in the light of success.
He had reduced the number of the fort’s defenders, when not a single man could be spared, while the loss of his twelve braves would not be felt by the hundreds that still remained.