Their numbers were now increased by the return parties; and, by holding the edge of the bank both above and below the settlers, they were able to command the ford with a cross-fire which seemed sufficient to insure the destruction of any party that might attempt to cross. They were favored in their plans by the shape of the shore, the settlers being in the centre of a curve, while they held the two extremities, the ford lying between. The wind, that had been gradually rising during the morning, now blew a gale in the direction of the ford, and right across the position occupied by the settlers. It was a period of drought, and the woods were full of combustible material as dry as tinder. "What's that?" cried Holdness as he smelt the smoke. "They've set the woods afire," said McClure; "and we can take our choice,--be burnt to death, or cross the ford in the face of their fire. They've trapped us with a vengeance." A bright flame was now seen rising in several places, and creeping along the ground behind the Indians' line, that now began to open right and left as the flames came on rapidly before the wind, heralded by the exulting shouts of the savages, who now felt their long-sought day of vengeance had come, and began to mass their force along the bank as the flames came on. Gathering courage from despair, the settlers prepared to dash across the ford in a long line, hoping in this manner, and by the swiftness of their passage, to escape in some degree the enemy's fire. "Follow me, neighbors!" shouted Honeywood: "there's death behind, and no mercy before." His voice was drowned in a rattling volley, followed by the death-shrieks of Indians, while far above the din rose the wild, exulting, peculiar war-whoop of the Black Rifle, like nothing else in the world as Holdness said, and which was instantly recognized both by the settlers and their foes. This was immediately succeeded by the blast of a conch, by which he directed those who from time to time followed his lead. Israel Blanchard, who was perched on the roof of the block-house, listening anxiously to every sound that came from the battle-ground, saw the flames rising, and understood but too well the object for which they were kindled. Hard upon this came the volley, and the blast of the horn. "It's the Black Rifle and his men: Nat's got 'em," shouted Blanchard. He flung open the gate, and rushed to the scene of conflict with all the lads at his heels, whose yells justified abundantly their cognomen of the "Screeching Catamounts." "I do believe Israel has lost his senses," said Mr. Seth, as he shut and barred the gate his brother had left open in his headstrong flight. "Then he's lost a good deal," said Mrs. Sumerford, who heard the remark. They were too late to join in the conflict; for when they reached the spot the Indians had fled, pursued by the Black Rifle and his band.