What did it have around it? Chains, by thunder! And hoop-iron! A log, split and hollowed out, and bound together with stuff from Reichart's blacksmith shop! Haw-haw! Watch, everybody! Could the blamed thing possibly stand fire? Hope not. They were ramming into it powder by the horn full. A ball from their pile followed. They rammed that also, and wadded it. One of them hastened with a smoking stick. They pretended to take good aim. They yelled and shook their guns and hatchets, as they stood aside to make way for the ball from the muzzle. Now! "Flash-whang!" A great cloud of smoke veiled the spot. No ball issued; only shrieks and shouts, and from the edges figures dived into the open and thence into the brush. The smoke cleared. The wooden cannon had disappeared, but the spot was covered with dead and wounded Indians. "Help yourselves to more cannon-balls," jeered Captain Sullivan. "We wish you a dozen such guns." Reinforcements had set out from Shepherd's Fort, six miles distant. When they drew near, they saw that they had no hope of entering the fort, so thick and angry were the attackers. They voted to return and get recruits; then try again. But that was not to the mind of the lad Francis Duke--Colonel Shepherd's son-in-law, aged not much over twenty, and rashly brave. "I've come too far to turn my back on a place that needs help as badly as this does. I'm going in, or die for it." They could not stop him. He spurred at a mad run, straight as an arrow, hoping to take the enemy by surprise. "Open the gate! Open the gate!" he shouted, as he neared. He was seen, and heard. The gate swung for him. Would he make it? He waved his hat and flourished his rifle--hurrah! He was almost there; a few strides more--but to a burst of smoke from the outlying cabins and copse he fell headlong, dead. His horse galloped riderless. The cannon accident had infuriated the Indians to the last degree. They were especially bent upon taking the Zane cabin, which held them off. Within the cabin matters were tightening up. The powder was getting low. The drain upon it had been constant. "We must have powder, boys," spoke Colonel Zane. "The fort will supply us. Who'll go and fetch it on the run?" There were looks. Betty Zane heard and stepped forward. "I'll go, brother Eb. You can't spare a man." "No, you sha'n't, Betty. It's man's work. Besides, you're not fast enough on your feet, child." Her black eyes flashed. She was a splendid girl, high-spirited and active; had been raised on the frontier and was a pet of her brothers. "I _shall_ go. I can run like a deer, you've often said, and I can't be of any better use. If I get hurt, that'll make no difference; but if you lose a man, you lose a rifle. Tell me what to do." "Betty!" He really didn't know what to have her do. Everybody pleaded and objected. She stamped her foot.