ng softly. And then it came--explosions and bullets from hundreds of
rifles. Clear around from east to west, by way of the north, they had
strung out in half a circle and were pumping lead in our position.
Everybody in the rifle pit flattened down. Lots of the younger children
set up a-squalling, and it kept the women busy hushing them. Some of the
women screamed at first, but not many.

Thousands of shots must haven rained in on us in the next few minutes.
How I wanted to crawl out to the trench under the wagons where our men
were keeping up a steady but irregular fire! Each was shooting on his
own whenever he saw a man to pull trigger on. But mother suspected me,
for she made me crouch down and keep right on holding the baby.

I was just taking a look at Silas Dunlap--he was still quivering--when
the little Castleton baby was killed. Dorothy Castleton, herself only
about ten, was holding it, so that it was killed in her arms. She was
not hurt at all. I heard them talking about it, and they conjectured
that the bullet must have struck high on one of the wagons and been
deflected down into the rifle pit. It was just an accident, they said,
and that except for such accidents we were safe where we were.

When I looked again Silas Dunlap was dead, and I suffered distinct
disappointment in being cheated out of witnessing that particular event.
I had never been lucky enough to see a man actually die before my eyes.

Dorothy Castleton got hysterics over what had happened, and yelled and
screamed for a long time and she set Mrs. Hastings going again.
Altogether such a row was raised that father sent Watt Cummings crawling
back to us to find out what was the matter.

Well along into twilight the heavy firing ceased, although there were
scattering shots during the night. Two of our men were wounded in this
second attack, and were brought into the rifle pit. Bill Tyler was
killed instantly, and they buried him, Silas Dunlap, and the Castleton
baby, in the dark alongside of the others.

All during the night men relieved one another at sinking the well deeper;
but the only sign of water they got was damp sand. Some of the men
fetched a few pails of water from the spring, but were fired upon, and
they gave it up when Jeremy Hopkins had his left hand shot off at the
wrist.

Next morning, the third day, it was hotter and dryer than ever. We awoke
thirsty, and there was no cooking. So dry were our mouths that we co