"I don't like to shoot a white man from ambush," said Henry, "but I'd be perfectly willing to send a bullet through the head of that Colonel Alloway. It would help our people--save them, perhaps--because without the British the Indians can't use the guns." "You won't git a chance, Henry," said Long Jim. "He's too fur back. The warriors will come into range fust, an' we'll hev to open fire on 'em. I don't see no signs of flankers turnin' off from the crossin'." "No, they won't send 'em up such high hills when they don't think any enemies are near. Make ready, boys. The foremost warriors are now in range. I hate to shoot at red men, even, from ambush, but it has to be done." Five muzzles were thrust forward in the bushes, and five pairs of keen eyes looked down the sights, as on came the chanting army, painted and horrible. The vanguard would soon be at the water. "Be sure you don't miss," said Henry. "The more deadly our first blow the better chance we have to win." Every one of the five concentrated all his faculties upon his target. He saw or thought of nothing but the painted chest or face upon which he directed his aim. "Ready," said Henry. Five gunlocks clicked. "Fire!" Five triggers were pulled, and five streams of flame darted from the bushes. Never had the five aimed bullets to better purpose, since their targets, broad and close, lay before them. Five warriors flung up their arms, and uttering the death howl, fell. A tremendous yell of surprise and rage arose from the Indians, and they crowded back upon one another, appalled, for the moment, by the sudden and deadly messengers of death. "Now, Jim, now!" exclaimed Henry. "Yell as if you were a thousand men. Run up and down in the bushes that your yells may come from point to point! Shout, man, shout!" Long Jim needed no command. His tremendous battle cry burst out, as he rushed back and forth in the thickets. It was some such shout as the old Vikings must have uttered, and it pealed out like the regular beat of a big drum. It expressed challenge and defiance, victory and revenge, and, to the ears of the red hearers on the other shores, the thickets seemed fairly to swarm with fighting men. The four added their efforts to those of Long Jim, but their cries formed merely a chorus, above which swelled the thundering note of the forest Stentor. The cords in Long Jim's throat swelled, his cheeks bulged, his eyes stood out, but his voice never broke. Without failing for an instant, it poured forth its mighty stream of challenge and invective, and the others, as they reloaded in all haste, looked at him with pride. It was their own Long Jim, he of the long legs and long throat, who had made many a great effort before, but none like this.