a fierce and savage
yell. Until this moment the invaders had been creeping like cats up to
the house, and Mr. Gracewood and Ella had no suspicion of their
presence. In coming up the river I had crossed to the opposite side by
a diagonal course, partly to shorten the distance, and partly to avoid
a strong current, which swept in close to the shore above the mouth of
Fish Creek. The Indians must have been making the passage at the same
time; but the island was between them and me, so that I could not see
them.

They belonged to the same band that had attacked us at the Castle. The
fact that they had their dugouts with them assured me they had come
down Crooked River, the next stream above the Fish, on our side of the
Missouri. I concluded that they intended to renew the attack upon the
Castle, and had come in their boats so that they could approach on the
water side of the farm. They knew Mr. Gracewood very well, and meant to
plunder him first, for his share in the occurrences of the last week.

I could form no idea of the number of Indians on the island. I judged
that there were but few, for I could see only two dugouts on the bank
of the river. The savage at whom I had fired was in the act of stealing
in at the window. He had but just raised his head, and was the only one
I could see. His companions were near him, however, as I soon learned
from the yell they uttered.

Mr. Gracewood's house was large enough to contain two rooms below, and
two sleeping apartments in the attic. The front room, on the south side
of the building, was nearly half filled by a Chickering's grand
piano--a magnificent instrument, which was the joy and solace of the
recluse in his self-imposed exile. I had often sat for hours, while he
played upon it, listening to the wonderful melody he produced. He was
an enthusiast in music, and when he played he seemed to be inspired.
Almost invariably his pipe was in his mouth when seated at the
instrument, and I supposed his two joys afforded him a double rapture.
I used to think, if it had been my case, I could have dispensed with
the pipe, for it seemed like adding gall to honey.

The grand piano was a powerful instrument, and I had heard its tones
before I landed, and I listened to them with pleasure until my
attention was attracted by the sight of the dugouts. The front door was
open, and Mr. Gracewood glanced at me as I appeared at the door, but he
did not suspend his rapturous occupation. Behind