r with an intense, fascinated, yet
horrified gaze.

Nobody was left on the deck of the vessel but the dead. The huge,
intertwining coil of fiery ribbons seemed suddenly to unite in one great
glowing mass, out of which flames shot high, sputtering and crackling.
Then came an awful moment of silence, the vessel trembled, leaped from the
water, turned into a volcano of fire and with a tremendous crash blew up.

The report was so great that it came rolling back in echo after echo, but
for a few moments there was no other sound save the echo. Then followed a
rain of burning wood, many pieces falling in the supply fleet, burning and
scorching, while others fell hissing in the forest on either shore.
Darkness, too, came over land and water. All the firing had ceased as if
by preconcerted signal, though the combatants on either side were awed by
the fate of the vessel. The smoke bank came back, too, thicker and heavier
than before, and the air was filled with the strong, pungent odor of
burnt gunpowder.

But the schooner that had blocked the mouth of the bayou was gone forever
and the way lay open before them. Adam Colfax recovered from the shock of
the explosion.

"On, men! On!" he roared, and the whole fleet, animated by a single
impulse, sprang forward toward the mouth of the bayou, the cannon blazing
anew the path, the gunners loading and firing, as fast as they could. But
the simile of the shiftless one had come true. The wedge, driven by
tremendous strokes, had cleft the log.

The Indian fleet, many of the boats containing white men, too, closed in
and sought to bar the way, but they were daunted somewhat by their great
disaster, and in an instant the American fleet was upon them cutting a
path through to the free river. Boat often smashed into boat, and the
weaker, or the one with less impulse, went down. Now and then white and
red reached over and grasped each other in deadly struggle, but, whatever
happened, the supply fleet moved steadily on.

It was to Paul a confused combat, a wild and terrible struggle, the climax
of the night-battle. White and red faces mingled before him in a blur, the
water seemed to flow in narrow, black streams between the boats and the
pall of smoke was ever growing thicker. It hung over them, black and
charged now with gases. Paul coughed violently, but he was not conscious
of it. He fired his rifle until it was too hot to hold. Then he laid it
down, and seizing an oar pulled with the