Indians of North America -- Juvenile fiction; Pioneers -- West (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction; Slavery -- Juvenile fiction
Of this Silas Bracher, if he was there in person, was probably aware.
In spite of the warning the Kentuckians had received, they, supposing
perhaps from our not having fired that we had no ammunition, or were
afraid of doing so, again assaulted the door with their battering-ram;
it, however, as before, stoutly withstood the thundering blows they
bestowed on it.
"If they will have it they must," at length exclaimed my father; and
scarcely were the words out of his mouth than Uncle Denis, the overseer,
and our guest fired. I was going to fire when my father shouted to Dan
and me not to pull a trigger. A cry arose from the midst of our
assailants, followed by a loud shout.
"Death to all within the house! Batter in the door, boys; a few strokes
and it will be done."
The ram thundered against the door. I at that moment looked through my
loophole, and I caught sight of a party in reserve, who the next instant
sent a shower of bullets rattling against the shutters and walls, one
shot narrowly missing my head as it whistled through the loophole. I
therefore thrust out my rifle and fired in the direction from whence the
shot came. Whether or not I had hit anyone I could not tell. I was too
well-trained a sportsman to lose a moment before again reloading. All
our little garrison were now engaged in firing and loading as fast as
they could. My father kept his post at the door, and Uncle Denis and
the overseer stationed themselves at the windows nearest to him on
either side, ready, should the door be burst open, to assist in driving
back the miscreants, while Biddy remained intently watching the
proceedings, with her hand on the red-hot poker, prepared to help in the
defence. As I could not bring my rifle to bear on the party with the
battering-ram, I contented myself with firing at those in the distance,
but as they kept as much as possible under cover, I could not tell
whether my shot took effect. The blows which the door received
threatened every instant to break it in, and I suspected that we should
have a fearful struggle before we should succeed in driving back our
assailants. Their cries and shouts increased. Excited with rage and
disappointment they rushed again and again to the assault. The firing
also became hotter and hotter. Fortunately, so well sheltered were all
our party, as we only went to the window to fire, then retreating behind
the walls, that not one of us had hitherto been hurt. From the sounds
which reached my ears I believed that the rifles of those of the
garrison who commanded the entrance were taking effect. Presently,
after another attempt to break open the door, I saw our assailants in
the grey light of morning beating a rapid retreat and dragging along
with them three or four of their number who had been either killed or
badly wounded.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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