The men in the garrison shouted in return, several of them well accustomed to the noise giving vent to derisive laughter.
“The painted savages fancy that we are to be frightened by yells like yon,” cried Sandy Macpherson, an old Scotchman, who had been since his youth in the service of the company. “They may shoot their arrows and shout as loud as they like, but it won’t help them to get inside the fort, lads, I ken. Wait till we can see their heads, and then send a shower of bullets among them, but dinna fire till the captain gives the word, an’ then blaze away as fast as ye can load.”
“Bravo, Sandy! That’s just what we must do,” cried Hector, who was passing at the moment, having been sent round by his father to see that the men were at their proper stations.
A shout from Sandy, of “There they are!” and the word to fire, produced a blaze of light round the fort.
The Blackfeet, many of whom had muskets, fired in return, and then countless dark forms were seen dashing forward, some to attempt to scale the walls, others to force open the gate.
Chapter Nine.
So resolutely carried on was the attack of the Indians, that Captain Mackintosh could not help fearing that it must succeed. Two of his men had been killed, and both his sons were wounded, although they refused to retire, and continued firing through the loop-holed walls. The fiercest attack was made on the gate, which Mysticoose evidently hoped to break open, and to force his way in. Loraine undertook to defend it to the last. Captain Mackintosh, knowing that he would do so, was able to turn his attention to other points.
Notwithstanding the desperate manner in which they came on to the attack, the assailants were kept at bay; but so much powder had at length been expended, that Captain Mackintosh found to his dismay that the stock was running short.