ipped outside
the block-house where was the sentinel, much startled, and bade him
fetch the interpreter, alive or dead. He came limping--not greatly hurt.
The words he said meant, "Good tidings for the unhappy." Then as we
stood there other words sounded signifying 'Fight manfully and you will
be assisted!' They were spoken to the hostages and close to the rampart
hard by their hut, unknowing their--I cannot think how they should not
smell the blood! Then from a greater distance came the "Whoo-whoop!" and
a thick hail of musketry. The men got under arms very quick and
tractable, and I think wished to atone. The fire of the savages had no
effect, the balls being buried in the earth of the escarp, or falling
spent within the fort. But we were kept at it all night, the men
tireless and dutiful. The savages now and then paused at first,
expecting some token from the hostages. Then they fought with great
persistence--realizing. With what loss we do not know, since they
carried off their dead. Sure, how strange 'tis to be fighting all night,
firing through the loop-holes of the block-house around Coytmore, with
never a word from him, an order, or a sign. I miss him more since he is
out of sight. I am afraid to speak of burying the savages inside the
fort, along with the commandant and Private Mahone--and yet I _must_ get
rid of them. Twenty-one!--in so narrow an enclosure----

"Much gratified by a deputation of Indians, realizing at last, and
asking for bodies. Would not open gates for fear of surprise. Had each
hoisted up and slipped out of embrasure; could hardly force men to touch
them. I said, 'You were too quick once!'--drew my pistol. The Indians
seemed mighty glad to get them, yet women went off howling. Soldiers
seemed relieved to find in the hut tomahawks buried in ground, and a
phial of liquid, which they think was poison for well. I poured this out
on the earth, and broke bottle. Men's spirits improve--quite cheerful.
Hope you have better luck at Ft. Loudon. Pray some one of you write to
me! Bell and the others too ill to send remembrances--doubtless would."

The circle listened in appalled silence, and when the reading was
concluded, except here and there a murmur of commiseration, or a deep
imprecation, hardly a stir was in the room until the joyous notes of the
building wren arose, so clear that they had a suggestion of glitter, if
the quality of light can ever be an attribute of sound. Then Captain
Stuart aske