sound. He did not
believe that he could hit anything in the darkness and uncertainty, but
he wished to attract the attention of the watchers of the palisade. The
diversion was effective, as shots were fired over their heads when they
came near the wooden walls, and the pursuers drew back.

Tom Wilmore revived and demanded to be put down. It hurt his pride that
he should have to be carried. He insisted that he was not hurt
seriously, and was on his feet again when they reached the palisade. The
anxious voice of Major Braithwaite hailed from the dark.

"Is it you, Ware; is it you, young sir?"

"We are here, all of us," replied Henry, and the next instant they were
at the foot of the palisade, where Major Braithwaite and at least twenty
men were ready to receive them.

When they were helped over the wall the Major counted quickly:

"One! two! three! four! five! six! all here, and only two wounded! It
was a wonderful exploit! In the name of Neptune, how did you do it?"

"We took the flatboat just as we planned," replied Henry with pardonable
pride. "We set it on fire, and it blew up, also just as we planned.
Those cannon are now twisted old iron lying at the bottom of the Ohio
River."

"We saw the fire and we heard the explosion," said the Major. "We knew
that your daring expedition had succeeded, but we feared that your party
would never be able to reach the fort again."

"We are here, however, thanks to the assistance of somebody," said
Henry, "and nobody is hurt badly except Tom Wilmore there."

"An' I ain't hurt so bad, neither," said Tom shame-facedly. "Things did
git kinder dark down thar, but I'm all right now, ready for what may
happen to be needed."

A few scattering shots were fired by the Indians in the woods at the
foot of the bluff, and a few more from canoes on the river, but the
garrison did not take the trouble to reply. Henry was quite sure that
the Indians would not remain in the brush on the cliff, as the morning
would find them, if there, in an extremely dangerous position, and,
deeply content with the night's work, one of the best that he had ever
done, he sought sleep in the log house which had been assigned to him.

It was a little one-roomed cabin with a bed of buffalo robes and
bearskins, upon which the boy sank exhausted. He had made sure, before
withdrawing, that Tom Wilmore was receiving the proper attention, and
hence he had little upon his mind now. He could enjoy their triumph in