lowed.
There was terror and confusion among the canoes, and the survivors,
abandoning them, dashed up the bank and into the darkness.

They reloaded their rifles, scattered some canoes further up, and then
swung back to the fleet, which was still going forward at the same
steady, even pace under a ceaseless shower of bullets. It was here that
Adam Colfax best showed his courage, tenacity, and judgment. Although
his men were being slain or wounded, he would not yet let them return
the fire, because there was no certainty that they could do any damage
among the warriors in the forest. He might have fired the brass twelve
pounders, and they would have made a great noise, but it would have been
a waste of powder and ball badly needed in the east.

He had run more than one blockade, but this awed even his iron soul. The
note of the Indian yell was more like the scream of a savage wild beast
than the sound of a human voice, and the mingling of the thunder and
lightning with all this noise of battle shook his nerves. But his will
made them quiet again, and from the deck of the _Independence_ he
continually passed back the word: "Push on! push on! But don't reply to
their fire."

The two scouts, Thrale and Lyon, with several of the best riflemen, also
dropped into a small boat and began to pick off the skirmishers near the
water's edge. Two other boats were filled with sharpshooters for the
same purpose, and their daring and skill were a great help to the
harassed fleet.

The pass was several miles in length, and at such a time the fleet was
compelled to move slowly. The boats must not crash into and destroy one
another. Above all, it was necessary to preserve the straight and
necessary formation of the fleet, as confusion and delay, in all
likelihood, would prove fatal.

Adam Colfax calculated that he had passed less than one-third of the
length of the narrows, as they had been described to him, and his heart
became very heavy. The fire of the Indian hordes was increasing in
volume. The great bonfires blazed higher and higher, and every minute
the fleet was becoming a more distinct target for the savage
sharpshooters. The souls of more good men were taking flight.

"We have not gone more than a third of the distance," he said to Adolphe
Drouillard. "At this rate can we last all the way?"

The brave Creole replied: "We have to do it."

But his face looked doubtful. He saw, and Adam Colfax saw, signs of
distress in the