Such was the discipline of Powell’s men that not a shot was fired as the Indians, yelling and whooping madly, came rushing on. There was something terribly ominous about the absolute silence of that little fortification. The galloping men were within one hundred yards now, now fifty. At that instant Powell spoke to his men. The inclosure was sheeted with flame. Out of the smoke and fire a rain of bullets was poured upon the astonished savages. The firing was not as usual—one volley, then another, and then silence; but it was a steady, persistent, continued stream, which mowed them down in scores. The advance was thrown into confusion, checked but not halted, its impetus being too great; and then the force divided and swept around the corral, looking for a weak spot for a possible entrance. At the same moment a furious fire was poured into it by the warriors, whose position on their horses’ backs gave them sufficient elevation to enable them to fire over the wagon beds upon the garrison. Then they circled about the corral in a mad gallop, seeking some undefended point upon which to concentrate and break through, but in vain. The little inclosure was literally ringed in fire. Nothing could stand against it. So close were they that one bullet sometimes pierced two Indians.[21] [Illustration: CHARGE OF RED CLOUD ON THE CORRAL AT PINEY ISLAND _Drawing by R. Farrington Elwell_ ] Having lost terribly, and having failed to make any impression whatever, the Indians broke and gave way. They rushed pell-mell from the spot in frantic confusion till they got out of range of the deadly storm that swept the plain. All around the corral lay dead and dying Indians, mingled with killed and wounded horses kicking and screaming with pain, the Indians stoically enduring all their sufferings and making no outcry. In front of the corral, where the first force of the charge had been spent, horses and men were stretched out as if they had been cut down by a gigantic mowing-machine. The defenders of the corral had suffered in their turn. Lieutenant Jenness, brave and earnest in defense, had exposed himself to give a necessary command and had received a bullet in his brain. One of the private soldiers had been killed and two severely wounded. The thirty-two had been reduced to twenty-eight. At that rate, since there were so few to suffer, the end appeared inevitable. The spirit of the little band, however, remained undaunted. Fortunately for them, the Indians had met with so terrible a repulse that all they thought of for the time being was to get out of range. The vicinity of the corral was thus at once abandoned. III. Red Cloud’s Baptism of Fire