d two or three times. Granville, unharmed, picked up the body of his
wife.

The old Englishman was very brave, for he limped forward and managed to
gather up the children, one under each arm. Granville's sister was
practical enough to secure her brother-in-law's rifle and ax. The three,
with their dead, made for the middle cabin.

All this happened in the wink of an eye. The Dales and Ward, walking
toward the end cabin when Dicks was killed, halted and stood as if
stupefied. None of the bullets had reached them. The girl seized her
father's arm and led him to shelter. He was unhurt, but he moved with
shuffling steps, much like a tavern-loafer soggy from rum.

We ran to enter the nearest cabin, which happened to be Granville's, but
the door was slammed and barred before we could round the corner.

"In here!" sharply cried Cousin, darting through the doorway of the empty
cabin.

As I piled in after him I saw Patsy and Dale entering their cabin, but
Ward, the white Indian, was running to cover up the valley. And not a
savage had shown himself with the exception of the one who had counted
coup at the lick-block. This fellow was still in sight and extremely
busy.

With our door ajar we watched the ghastly struggle between the faithful
mongrel and the assassin. The Indian had lost his ax but had managed to
draw his knife. The dog's teeth were buried in his throat before he could
get his blade loose. I raised my rifle but Cousin laughed and knocked it
aside and cried:

"Let him make his kill! It's his coup!"

The warrior staggered clear of the block, his desperate plight blinding
him to all else. His eyes were protruding. He stabbed blindly. I cried out
in pain as I saw the knife sink to the hilt. But the faithful beast had
locked his jaws and the weight of his body was already ripping the red
throat open. Dead dog and dying warrior fell side by side. The dog had
counted the first coup for the whites.

Now we caught our first view of the enemy. A long line of Shawnees emerged
from the woods, running and leaping and jumping from side to side, sinking
behind stumps and vanishing behind the scattered trees.

"We've got time to make the ridge back o' here," spoke up Cousin. "We's
fools to come in here. S'pose we go."

"You go! I must stick," I told him.

"We can do 'em more good out in the open than by bein' cooped up in here,"
he quietly reasoned.

"You go. I can't leave the girl."

"Then bar the door," he comma