undred Injuns and two hundred Britishers, are on the way to
Ft. Henry."

"My God!" exclaimed Col. Zane. Strong man as he was the hunter's
words had unnerved him.

The loud and clear tone of the church-bell rang out on the still
night air. Only once it sounded, but it reverberated among the
hills, and its single deep-toned ring was like a knell. The
listeners almost expected to hear it followed by the fearful
war-cry, that cry which betokened for many desolation and death.

CHAPTER XIII.

Morning found the settlers, with the exception of Col. Zane, his
brother Jonathan, the negro Sam, and Martin Wetzel, all within the
Fort. Col. Zane had determined, long before, that in the event of
another siege, he would use his house as an outpost. Twice it had
been destroyed by fire at the hands of the Indians. Therefore,
surrounding himself by these men, who were all expert marksmen, Col.
Zane resolved to protect his property and at the same time render
valuable aid to the Fort.

Early that morning a pirogue loaded with cannon balls, from Ft. Pitt
and bound for Louisville, had arrived and Captain Sullivan, with his
crew of three men, had demanded admittance. In the absence of Capt.
Boggs and Major McColloch, both of whom had been dispatched for
reinforcements, Col. Zane had placed his brother Silas in command of
the Fort. Sullivan informed Silas that he and his men had been fired
on by Indians and that they sought the protection of the Fort. The
services of himself and men, which he volunteered, were gratefully
accepted.

All told, the little force in the block-house did not exceed
forty-two, and that counting the boys and the women who could handle
rifles. The few preparations had been completed and now the settlers
were awaiting the appearance of the enemy. Few words were spoken.
The children were secured where they would be out of the way of
flying bullets. They were huddled together silent and frightened;
pale-faced but resolute women passed up and down the length of the
block-house; some carried buckets of water and baskets of food;
others were tearing bandages; grim-faced men peered from the
portholes; all were listening for the war-cry.

They had not long to wait. Before noon the well-known whoop came
from the wooded shore of the river, and it was soon followed by the
appearance of hundreds of Indians. The river, which was low, at once
became a scene of great animation. From a placid, smoothly flowing
stream it