"And I agree with you, Mr. Kennedy," said Eloise, clearly, speaking
from the open door. "Lieutenant Knox, no one here has more to forgive
than I. We must give the man refuge--it would be inhuman not to."

My questioning eyes sought her face, and I read there a plea for mercy
not to be resisted. She meant her words, and the hate and distrust in
my own heart seemed mean and vile. I stepped forward and struck the
horse sharply, sending him scurrying around the end of the cabin.

"Go in!" I said, grimly, to Kirby, looking him squarely in the eyes.
"And then play the man, if you care to live."

I lingered there upon the outside for a moment, but for a moment only.
The advancing cloud of savages were already coming up the slope,
gradually spreading out into the form of a fan. The majority were
mounted, although several struggled forward on foot. Near their center
appeared the ominous gleam of a red blanket, waved back and forth as
though in signal, but the distance was too great for my eyes to
distinguish the one manipulating it. We were trapped, with our backs
to the wall.

There were but few preparations to be made, and I gave small attention
to Kirby until these had been hastily completed. The door and window
were barred, the powder and slugs brought up from below, the rifles
loaded and primed, the few loopholes between the logs opened, and a
pail of water placed within easy reach. This was all that could be
done. Kennedy made use of the fellow, ordering him about almost
brutally, and Kirby obeyed the commands without an answering protest.
To all appearances he was as eager as we in the preparations for
defense. But I could not command him; to even address the fellow would
have been torture, for even then I was without faith, without
confidence. The very sneaking, cowardly way in which he acted, did not
appeal to me as natural. I could not deny his story--those approaching
Indians alone were proof that he fled from a real danger; and yet--and
yet, to my mind he could not represent anything but treachery. I
possessed but one desire--to kick the cringing cur.

I stood at a loophole watching the approaching savages. They had
halted just below the big tree, and four or five, half hidden by the
huge trunk, were in consultation, well beyond rifle shot. Assured by
their attitude that the attack would not be made immediately, I
ventured to turn my face slightly, and take final survey of the room
behind. Tim