ry, when Paul and Shif'less Sol reached the
others. "We saw what happened! You cannot do anything for him now!"

He dragged Paul down, and in an instant all of them turned their full
energy to the defense. The attack upon them was renewed with uncommon fire
and fury. The Indians and desperadoes wished to pass that particular neck
of land in order that they might pour a storm of bullets upon the crippled
fleet and the skirmishers who were yet coming in; but the little band,
headed by Henry Ware, still held them back.

Henry looked once or twice toward the river and saw the boats hovering far
out in the stream. He judged that, in the darkness and confusion, Adam
Colfax no longer knew where the Kentuckians lay, and it was even possible
that he might lose them entirely; but the fact did not shake Henry's
resolve. It was vital that they should hold the neck, and he intended to
do it. He and his comrades, lying close together, replied rapidly and with
deadly aim to the fire in front of them, forming a compact little body,
with blazing rifles, which the savage army was not yet able to displace.

The night darkened, there were signs of rain, induced perhaps, by so much
firing; the moon was completely hidden by gathering clouds; the river
became a black, flowing mass and the boats upon it blurred with its
surface, save when they leaped into the light in the blaze of a cannon
shot. The woods, too, seemed a solid, black wall, along the front of which
rifle shots sparkled in clusters.

"Good boys! good boys!" exclaimed Henry in low tones, surcharged with
excitement. He, too, had the mounting blood hot in his brain. All the old
primeval passion was flaming in him. But the fire of the enemy converged
nearer and nearer, and the bullets sang a ceaseless little song in his
ears as they passed. "Ah!" he exclaimed as one struck him in the arm. But
that was all he said. He went on with his loading and firing.

"Are you hit, Henry?" asked Shif'less Sol.

"A scratch! Nothing more! Look how Long Jim fights!"

Long Jim was almost flat upon his face, but the man, usually so mild and
good tempered, was now wholly possessed by the rage of combat. His long
thin figure fitted around the sinuosities of the earth, and he seemed to
have a curious gliding motion, sliding forward slowly to meet the enemy.
The darkness was nothing now to his accustomed eyes, and he sent his
bullets with sure aim toward the shadowy forms in the bushes in front of
th