They had not long to wait, for a tufted head was cautiously protruded from behind a tree, and a pair of brilliant eyes looked keenly at the island. Evidently he saw something out of the way, for he stepped out in full view of the fort and advanced to within twenty feet of the barricade. “That man must not go back,” said Melton, in a whisper, touching Tom Bantry on the arm, “and no rifle must be fired. Can you fetch him?” Bantry caught up a knife and hatchet, and sprung from the barricade so suddenly that the Indian had no time to cock his gun before the fiery boatman was upon him. They closed with fierce energy, a short struggle ensued, and then Tom Bantry arose, leaving the Indian dead at his feet. “Well done, Bantry,” said Melton, as the man came back his face scarcely flushed by the desperate struggle in which he had been engaged. “You will do very well without watching.” “I’ve _got_ to fight,” replied Tom, coolly. “It won’t do for me to be caught, I tell you.” By this time the Indians and disguised boatmen began to show themselves through the woods, and the scout opened upon them at once, and they skulked to the shelter of the bushes. But the men who had come up with the desperado Garrett did not know the word fear, and only waited for the orders of their superior to advance to the assault. “They are fighting chickens, Cap; game birds, every man, now you mind what I say,” said the deserter. “They’ll fight like bulldogs, but they’d do better if Black Will was here.” The attack was not long delayed. The desperate ruffians collected as close as possible to the barricade, and then made their rush all together. They were met by men as determined and desperate as themselves, and forced back, leaving one fourth of their number dead or wounded in front of the barricade. “That’s the way Melton’s scouts do it,” cried the voice of the young captain. “Come again, my boys.” “I hear you,” screamed Garrett, “and we will come again. Now, Napope,” he added, lowering his tone, “we must divide their force. Send ten of your best men to cross the creek and attack them on the right. Send ten more to the left, and try them at the same time. The signal will be three rifle-shots from this point.” Their movements were not so well shrouded that Melton could not see the danger to be apprehended from a division of his forces, which was rendered necessary by this action on their part. But he only sent three men to each point threatened, one under the lead of Tom Bantry, who had already become quite popular, and the other under Cooney Joe. They darted rapidly across the little open space, while the others loaded their rifles and pistols and calmly waited for the assault. “Beat them off this time, and the chances are they won’t want any more,” cried Melton. “Shoot a little closer to make up for the lost men, and it will be all right.”