Dale was sure of Granville's and the Englishman's behavior, and he addressed his warning to Cousin and me, calling on us in a stentorian voice to offer no resistance if we valued our lives. He ended by yelling: "Catahecassa, war-chief of the Shawnees, spares your lives." Without giving us time to speak, he waved a hand and commanded: "It's all right, Patricia! Come out!" "Stay where you are!" I screamed, my voice muffled by the four stout walls. I jumped to tear the bar from the door, but Cousin hurled me aside, panting: "Too late! God! To think such a woman should walk into their bloody trap!" His words sent me to the loophole. Patricia Dale was walking composedly toward her father, her slim hands holding up her belts. She winced as she passed the lick-block and got a glimpse of the dead savage and the dead dog. Then her gaze remained steady on her father's calm face. Black Hoof said something, but there was a pounding in my ears which prevented me from hearing it. I guessed it, though, when Dale called out: "All you who would be spared come out and leave your guns behind!" He had barely spoken before the Englishman's voice excitedly called: "You two scouts in there." I gave him heed and he informed me: "Granville and his sister say they are going out. Do you go out?" "We shall stay here. It's better for you to die where you are," I told him. "Ay, I think it's better myself. Well, I'm old and hungry to be with the children again." The Englishman was a brave man, and very sensible. He recognized Fate when it paused to stare him in the eye. My companion was panting for breath and was standing back so as to rest the muzzle of his rifle just inside the loophole. A glance revealed his deadly purpose. A tall warrior was now on his feet. I knew him to be Black Hoof. I had seen him at Fort Pitt during one of those rare lulls between wars. Cousin was fairly out of his head with the lust to kill the chief, but the Shawnee took no chances. He was careful to keep the girl and her father between him and the cabins. I pushed Cousin's gun aside and fiercely upbraided him for placing the Dales' lives in jeopardy. "You fool!" he cried. "They're gone already. Are you, too, blind? If you love that gal out there and want to do her the greatest kindness a man can ever do to a border woman, shoot her!" Granville began shouting: "Me 'n' my sister are comin' out. We surrender. Tell 'em, Mr. Dale! God knows 'nough blood's been spilt." I heard their cabin door open. Then it closed with a bang and we heard the heavy bar drop into place. For a moment I believed they had changed their minds; then they crossed our line of vision, the man walking ahead with empty hands held high, his sister walking behind and wildly waving a white cloth. It was the Englishman, skeptical, because of our advice, who dropped the bar.