“What’s that you say?” cried Melton, coming forward. “Who killed him; how was he killed?” “Dick Garrett did it,” replied Tom, in a choking voice. “The ’square give him some cheek, and he had him throwed into the river. Boys, I’m a rough boatman, but I jumped in after him, and they left us alone in the dark on the river. I tried to save him, but it wan’t no use; the current took him under.” “I believe this man, for one,” said Melton. “He never would dare to come here with such a tale as that unless it was really true. What do you say, boys?” “He’s all right,” replied Joe, “but ef he ain’t, let him look out, ’cause I shoot awful close, odd times; I do, by gracious. So Dick Garrett is jined with Napope?” “That ain’t all, you know,” said Tom Bantry. “They hev sent off a messenger to the village, and if you don’t have lively times round here, then I don’t want a picayune.” “Perhaps we had better retreat.” “You can’t do it; they’ve got scouts all through the woods, and you’d hev the hull posse on your backs in twenty minnits by the clock, so don’t try that on, ’square. No, it’s goin’ to be a b’ar-fight, and you can’t find a better place than this to fight in.” “I believe the man is right,” said Melton. “I say, Folks, is your hand so bad you can’t pull a trigger?” “Sorry to say ’tis, Cap,” replied the man; “I can’t do nothing.” He had been hit in the hand during the fight that morning, and the cords had been so injured as to make it impossible for him to fire a rifle. “Then you may as well let this man have your rifle, Folks,” said the captain. “I take it for granted you mean to fight?” “Stranger, I’ve _got_ to fight,” said Bantry. “Why, if Dick Garrett gets me, he’ll raise my wool, sure, and so, ef he does git into this camp, I’m goin’ out feet fust. That’s the way to talk it.” “He knows you have turned against him, then?” “Captin, he suspects it, and to suspect a man is all _he_ wants, you know. He’ll go for me, sure.” The man who had been hurt came up at this moment and gave Bantry the rifle and ammunition. “Now, ’square, see here,” he said; “you watch me when I fire the first shot, and if it don’t seem to you that I’ve tried to hit my man, I give you leave to shoot me, that’s all. This is a good rifle, chummy—she hangs true as a die, and I can knock the black out of a buffler’s eye at twenty rods with her.” At this moment one of the sentries outside the barricade gave the signal, and all were immediately upon the alert. Melton took the charge of Bantry upon himself, and gave him a place in the middle of the barricade, and took his station beside him. The sentries came stealing in like silent specters, and placed themselves beside the rest in silence, waiting for the advance of the Indians.