A mighty splintering shook the door.
``To the ports!'' cried Polly Ann, as our heads knocked together.
To find the rifles and prime them seemed to take an age.Next I was staring through the loophole along a barrel, and beyond it were three black forms in line on a long beam.I think we fired--Polly Ann and I--at the same time.One fell.We saw a comedy of the beam dropping heavily on the foot of another, and he limping off with a guttural howl of rage and pain.I fired a pistol at him, but missed him, and then I was ramming a powder charge down the long barrel of the rifle.Suddenly there was silence,--even the children had ceased crying.
Outside, in the dooryard, a feathered figure writhed like a snake towards the fence.The moon still etched the picture in black and white.
Shots awoke me, I think, distant shots.And they sounded like the ripping and tearing of cloth for a wound.
'Twas no new sound to me.
``Davy, dear,'' said a voice, tenderly.
Out of the mist the tear-stained face of Polly Ann bent over me.I put up my hand, and dropped it again with a cry.Then, my senses coming with a rush, the familiar objects of the cabin outlined themselves: Tom's winter hunting shirt, Polly Ann's woollen shift and sunbonnet on their pegs; the big stone chimney, the ladder to the loft, the closed door, with a long, jagged line across it where the wood was splintered; and, dearest of all, the chubby forms of Peggy and little Tom playing on the trundle-bed.Then my glance wandered to the floor, and on the puncheons were three stains.I closed my eyes.
Again came a far-off rattle, like stones falling from a great height down a rocky bluff.
``What's that?'' I whispered.
``They're fighting at McAfee's Station,'' said Polly Ann.
She put her cool hand on my head, and little Tom climbed up on the bed and looked up into my face, wistfully calling my name.
``Oh, Davy,'' said his mother, ``I thought ye were never coming back.''
``And the redskins?'' I asked.
She drew the child away, lest he hurt me, and shuddered.
``I reckon 'twas only a war-party,'' she answered.``The rest is at McAfee's.And if they beat 'em off--'' she stopped abruptly.
``We shall be saved,'' I said.
I shall never forget that day.Polly Ann left my side only to feed the children and to keep watch out of the loopholes, and I lay on my back, listening and listening to the shots.At last these became scattered.Then, though we strained our ears, we heard them no more.Was the fort taken? The sun slid across the heavens and shot narrow blades of light, now through one loophole and now through another, until a ray slanted from the western wall and rested upon the red-and-black paint of two dead bodies in the corner.I stared with horror.
``I was afeard to open the door and throw 'em out,''
said Polly Ann, apologetically.
Still I stared.One of them had a great cleft across his face.
``But I thought I hit him in the shoulder,'' I exclaimed.
Polly Ann thrust her hand, gently, across my eyes.
``Davy, ye mustn't talk,'' she said; ``that's a dear.''
Drowsiness seized me.But I resisted.
``You killed him, Polly Ann,'' I murmured, ``you?''
``Hush,'' said Polly Ann.
And I slept again.
