314 WILD SCENES AND WILD HUNTERS. 



ihe door with all my excited strength. Though both of us 

 were wounded, we succeeded in closing the bolt, while the 

 Indians kept firing at the door, in the vain hope of hitting 

 us through it. Hickory is a very tough wood, and the closely 

 woven withs or poles of which it was composed were bullet- 

 proof. 



It was not, however, proof against hatchets, and instantly 

 we heard the blows by which they were cutting their way 

 through. We reloaded our weapons in silence. The door 

 was fraily hung, and could not stand such a general assault 

 more than a few moments — ^but when we were ready, she 

 looked up with a smile that seemed very strange at such a 

 time. 



" I prepared for them long ago !" she said, in a low, hissing 

 voice — as she punched out a bit of mud from between two of 

 the pickets of the hoijse — and then thrust her rifle through 

 what I now saw was a shrewdly disguised port-hole, bearing 

 directly upon the door. She fired, and a yeU of agony from 

 the outside followed. As she withdrew her rifle, I also fired 

 my pistol through the port-hole into the midst of the flurried 

 and astonished group, which had gathered about a fallen 

 warrior. Their discomfiture was now complete, and with ges- 

 tures of furious menace, I could see they commenced a retreat 

 more rapid than the charge had been, and as little expected. 



The woman, who now appeared to have grown wild with 

 rage, quickly sent after their retreat another shot from the 

 door-way, which she had impetuously thrown open. She 

 screamed her defiance, and shook her clenched hand at them 

 like some crazed " Madge Wildfire," as they disappeared in 

 yet greater confusion from her shot, and turning towards me 

 with lips blue and compressed — until they were thin as wafers 

 across her teeth — muttered faintly — 



" They have slain my husband !" and staggering towards 

 the still insensible body — her flashing eyes suddenly grew 



