Al, thanks to his careful use of ammunition, still had quite a supply left, but he saw with horror what the general situation was and realized that unless something could be done to relieve it, they would all be massacred in a few minutes. Being under no orders and wishing to be with his mother and sister at the last moment, if this was really at hand, he left the barricade and ran to the barracks building, where they were crowded with the other noncombatants. A distressing scene met his eyes as he entered. Many of the women were gathered in groups, weeping and wringing their hands, their children clinging about them, while here and there others knelt, praying aloud or absorbed in silent supplications. A long row of wounded lay stretched on pallets at one side. But across the room he saw another group, the only one in which the spirit of courage and determination seemed still to prevail. To Al's surprise, his mother was one of this party, apparently perfectly calm and her face lighted by an expression of noble resolution and self-forgetfulness. With her were several other women of like firm spirit, and two or three men, all of them busily absorbed in some occupation around a stove in which a hot fire was blazing. Al soon found that they were casting musket balls, their supply of lead consisting of the flattened bullets of the Indians, which men were gathering up outside and bringing to them to be re-moulded. The rapidly increasing supply which they were thus preparing was being augmented by some of Sergeant Jones's artillerymen, who were opening spherical case shot and removing from them the balls, which served perfectly for musket ammunition. Although Lieutenant Sheehan and Sergeant Jones had thought of these providential expedients but a few moments before, already small quantities of the new balls were being taken out and distributed to the men in the defences, whose fire, consequently, was resuming its former volume.