ck
Hoof is a devil for thinkin' up tricks."

I fired at the green mass. Cousin rebuked me, saying:

"Don't waste lead. There's three braves with long poles to keep the
contraption from fallin' backward. They're on their feet, but keepin' low
as possible. There's t'others pushin' the bottom along. There's t'others
huggin' the ground. You'll notice the ends an' middle o' the top stick up
right pert, but between the middle an' each end the boughs sort o' sag
down. If the middle pole can be put out o' business I 'low the weight of
it will make it cave in. Loaded? Then don't shoot less you see
somethin'."

With this warning he fired at the middle of the screen, and the middle
support developed a weakness, indicating he had wounded the poleman. He
fired again, and the whole affair began to collapse, and a dozen warriors
were uncovered. These raced for the woods, two of them dragging a wounded
or dead man.

For a few seconds I was incapable of moving a muscle. I was much like a
boy trying to shoot his first buck. Or perhaps it was the very abundance
of targets that made me behave so foolishly. Cousin screamed in rage. My
bonds snapped, and I fired. If I scored a hit it was only to wound, for
none of the fleeing foe lessened their speed. "Awful poor fiddlin'!"
groaned Cousin, eying me malevolently.

"I don't know what was the matter with me. Something seemed to hold me
paralyzed. Couldn't move a finger until you yelled."

"Better luck next time," he growled, his resentment passing away.

He loaded and stood his rifle against the logs and began spying from the
rear of the cabin. Whenever he glanced at the apron his eyes would close
for a moment. No women had lived there. One of the Grisdols, the father of
the two children, had brought it as a reminder of his dead wife. Cousin's
great fight was not against the red besiegers, but against his emotions. I
knew he was thinking of his sister.

"Come here!" I sharply called. "They want a pow-wow. One's waving a green
bough."

Cousin climbed to the hole in the roof, holding his rifle out of sight by
the muzzle. He yelled in Shawnee for the man to advance alone. The warrior
strode forward, the token of peace held high. So far as I could see he did
not have even a knife in his belt. Overhead Cousin's rifle cracked and the
Indian went down with never a kick.

"Good God! You've fired on a flag of truce, after agreeing to receive it!"
I raged.

He stood beside me, a crooked smi