The two boys were far from being alone, however, as the whole British force soon discovered. The woods around them became a mass of shooting tongues of flame, and the sharp fire of the attacking Indians soon forced the Redcoats to take shelter behind the trees and rocks. For a full half hour the Indians circled about the cordon of troops, firing and yelling and making the night fiendish with their blood-curdling cries. Several of the English, more exposed because of the fires burning behind them, fell, wounded or killed. But their numbers were too great for the redskins to overcome and they were gradually driven back at various points and finally forced to cease firing and retire in the darkness. The fight had been brisk while it lasted and several times it looked as if the Indians might break the defence and complete their victory. But in the end, the greater numbers of the British succeeded in repulsing the attack, and with the loss of one man and several slightly wounded, the Indians retired into the forest, abandoning the attempt to rescue their captive brother. "Vas has happened to dot Tom und Tim Murphies?" queried Fritz as they hurried back to the Indian encampment. "Dot fool Irisher ran the woods off in, like the crazy feller he iss, und Tom vas following him after." "They saved you and Telca and I by doing it," replied Dick. "It certainly led the British astray for a minute." "Maype Tim has some senses after all, alreaty," said Fritz, thoughtfully. "I vould nefer tell him so yet." "Well, they seem to be in all right with the British and we can always hope to be warned, at least, if we get into danger." "Und now, vere are ve going at?" asked the Dutch boy as they reached camp and found the squaws ready to move on. "Going to march some more," replied the chief. "Redcoat man too near." Fritz gave a longing glance at his heap of pine boughs, where he had hoped to pass the rest of the night, shouldered his gun, and trudged off with a sigh after Dick. CHAPTER XIII. THE CLIFF DROP. Tom Dare and Tim returned somewhat slowly to the camp after the firing had ceased, and the Indians had retired from the attack. "It's hard to see any man shot down before your eyes," said Tom, "but it's a good thing for you and I, Tim, that the trooper that heard Dick call us by name isn't here to tell the story." "Sure, if he was, it's you and I, me bye, would now be chasin' the woods through trying to foind that brother of yours and his rid skinned frinds." "Come along, we'll go report to the major, and see where we stand," said Tom. "Good," replied Tim, "Do you know, Tom, it's a lucky thing for us, it is, thot with thot crazy Dootchman firin' at us we wern't kilt entirely." "Careful, Tim, don't talk too much with these men around. They might overhear something." The two boys had reached the major by now, and going up to him, saluted. Tim said that saluting a British major was the hardest work he had ever done in his short but eventful life.