The two spies had scarcely reached the summit of the mount, ere a yell announced that they had been discovered. A large party of stragglers returning to the village had caught sight of the heads elevated above the fissures of the promontory, and in less time than it takes the pen to relate it, the whole base of the mount was surrounded, and all hope of escape cut off! Attack was not long delayed, for the savages had recognized the spies, and their hideous yells told them how they thirsted for their hearts’ blood. Still the twain possessed an advantage, for from the narrow backbone of the mount, they were compelled to advance toward them in single file, and the form of each warrior must momentarily be exposed to their unerring rifles. Warrior after warrior fell beneath the spies’ rifles, when the savages prepared an attack on the flank, which could be successfully and fatally done by reaching an insulated rock lying in one of the ravines on the southern hillside. This rock once gained by the Indians, they could bring their foes under point-blank shot of their rifles and without possibility of escape. The brave scouts saw the utter hopelessness of the situation, but like the truly brave never despaired. They looked into each other’s faces, and though they spoke not their eyes said: “We’ll fight to the bitter end: our lives shall cost the red-skins a score.” Presently Kenowatha saw a tall and swarthy figure preparing to spring from a cover so near the fatal rock that a single bound must reach it and all hope be destroyed. Knowing that all might depend upon one advantageous shot, and although but one inch of the warrior’s body was exposed, he raised his rifle, and drew the deadly bead on the rash red-skin. But instead of the flint striking fire, and signing the brave’s death-warrant, it flew into a thousand fragments, and the youth cursed his misfortune from the depths of his heart. Morgan was some distance away, guarding another threatened point, and Kenowatha could expect no help from him. The savage continued to approach the rock while the youth proceeded to adjust another flint, though he felt that the labor would prove fruitless. Suddenly the Shawnee made the spring with the agility of the forest deer; but, instead of reaching the rock, he leaped ten feet in the air, and, with a chilling death-yell, he fell to the earth, and rolled fifty feet down the hill, shot by an unknown foe! A hundred cries from below reëchoed the shout, and the advantage so mysteriously gained by the scouts proved of short duration, for another swarthy warrior was advancing toward the cover so lately occupied by his stricken brother. Now the attack in front claimed the scout’s attention, and while thus engaged the brave leaped for the rock only to fall dead by the same mysterious shot. This last shot cast dismay into the ranks of the attacking party, and at sundown they retired to plan anew for the destruction of the whites.