Just then they heard three rifle-shots, and a simultaneous movement was made against the island from three different points. But the foresight of Melton in sending small parties to the threatened points, removed the danger from the two parties of Indians, while his own force was not so weakened but that he could still present a stout front to the foe. The barricade rained bullets upon the advancing enemy entangled in the branches of the trees which formed the intrenchment, and crowded into the narrow space of twenty feet. No men, however hardy, could hope to live long under such a fire, and in spite of the almost superhuman exertions of Garrett, Napope and Na-she-eschuck, they fell back again, and took breath under cover of the woods. “This is awful,” said Garrett. “The curse of the devil on them, how they do fight. I’ve lost near half my men.” The small parties under Tom Bantry and Joe had succeeded in keeping their enemies at bay, and as soon as the main body retreated, half a dozen men ran to their aid, and the Indians were quickly swept away from the banks of the creek. “Good boys,” said Melton. “You could not fight better if you liked the sport. Now, who wants the doctor?” No one had been badly injured. Two or three had been scraped by passing bullets, but a little sticking-plaster soon set that right, and they were as ready for a fight as ever. Garrett was furious, and while he was blaming heaven and earth at the ill success of his attack, a man whose face was flushed by a hard ride dashed through the swamp, and drew up before them. “Now then, what is all this?” he cried. “I know you, Dick Garrett. You delight in a row so much that you are wasting my men in attacking a perfect fort.” “But you don’t know who is in it, Will Jackwood,” replied Garrett. “Two men you hate—Cooney Joe and Captain Melton.” “Ha, say you so? Then out of that they must come, by the Eternal! Keep back the men, for Black-Hawk will be here in half an hour with four hundred braves, and then we will overwhelm them. Captain Melton, eh? I always did detest that boy, Dick.” “I don’t love him,” said Dick. “What is this I hear about Sam Wescott?” “Gone under, Will. I had to do it, for he recognized me in my disguise, and some one had to go.” “I don’t care so much about that, if you did not compromise me. The man hated me, and while he lived there was no hope of winning the girl by fair means, and I always liked that way best. Where is the girl?” “I left her on the edge of the swamp, with three of my best men.” “All right; where is Tom Bantry? I want to send him somewhere.” “I don’t know what to think about him, Will, ’pon my word. When we slung Wescott overboard the fool jumped after him, and I left them both in the river. Tom got out, some way, and came to Napope’s camp, but after their fight we could not find hide nor hair of him.”