TRACKING THE ENEMY. 381 



"Don't move fast," said she, in a measured voice, 

 " but come into the tower quietly ; there are Indians in 

 the palmetto bushes." 



The uncle was not capable of self-control. He cast a 

 hasty look around him, dropped the coil of rope, and ran 

 to the light-house. It was well for him the door stood 

 open wide, for as he ran a ringing shot came from the 

 palmettoes, the bullet cutting his jacket, and another shot 

 from another covert shattered a pane of glass beside 

 Lou Jackson, and from every side broke out the war 

 whoop, while half a dozen savages, whooping with their 

 hands to their mouths, sprang from the palmetto bushes, 

 and rushed across the opening to intercept the fugitive. 



The old man slipped in, slamming and bolting the 

 heavy door behind him, and was safe. The savages 

 crowded up against the doorway, as an angry wave 

 would sometimes do on a stormy night, and then fell 

 back with tumult and sullen roar, baffled for the nonce. 



