of Christian voices, and the
galloping of horse into the village from above, converted the whole scene
into one of amazement and terror. The volley was repeated, and by as many
more guns; and in an instant there was seen rushing into the square a
body of at least a hundred mounted white men, their horses covered with
foam and staggering with exhaustion, yet spurred on by their riders with
furious ardour; while twice as many footmen were beheld rushing after, in
mad rivalry, cheering and shouting, in reply to their leader, whose voice
was heard in front of the horsemen thundering out,--"Small change for the
Blue Licks! Charge 'em, the brutes! give it to 'em handsome!"

The yells of dismay of the savages, taken thus by surprise, and, as it
seemed, by a greatly superior force, whose approach, rapid and tumultuous
as it must have been, their universal devotion to the Saturnalia of blood
had rendered them incapable of perceiving; the shouts of the mounted
assailants, as they dashed into the square and among the mob, shooting as
they came, or handling their rifles like maces, and battle-axes; the
trampling and neighing of the horses; and the thundering hurrahs of the
footmen charging into the town with almost the speed of the horse, made a
din too horrible for description. The shock of the assault was not
resisted by the Indians even for a moment. Some rushed to the
neighbouring wigwams for their guns, but the majority, like the women and
children, fled to seek refuge among the rocks and bushes of the
overhanging hill; from which, however, as they approached it, a deadly
volley was shot upon them by foemen who already occupied its tangled
sides. Others again fled towards the meadows and corn-fields, where, in
like manner, they were intercepted by bands of mounted Long-knives, who
seemed pouring into the valley from every hill. In short, it was soon
made apparent that the village of the Black-Vulture was assailed from all
sides, and by such an army of avenging white men as had never before
penetrated into the Indian territory.

All the savages,--all, at least, who were not shot or struck down in the
square,--fled from the village; and among the foremost of them was
Braxley, who, as much astounded as his Indian confederates, but better
prepared for flight, struck the spurs into his horse, and still retaining
his helpless prize, dashed across the river, to escape as he might.

In the meanwhile, the victims at the stake, though