ater again rose in Paul's
eyes and Henry's too were damp.

"Boys," whispered Henry, "I think the time has come. Take aim. We'll
pick the four on the left, Sol the first on the end, the second for me,
Tom the third and Paul the fourth. Now, boys, cock your rifles, and take
aim, the best aim that you ever took in your life, and when I say
'Fire!' pull the trigger."

Every man from the covert did as he was directed. When Henry looked down
the sights and picked out the right place on the broad chest of a
warrior, he shuddered a little. He repeated to himself that he did not
like it, this firing from ambush, but there was the old man, whom they
loved, doomed to torture and the sacrifice. His heart hardened like
flint and he cried "Fire!"

Four rifles flashed in the thicket. Two warriors fell without a sound.
Two more leaped away, wounded, and all the others sprang to their feet
with cries of surprise and alarm.

"Up and at 'em!" cried Henry in a tremendous voice. "Cut them to
pieces!"

Drawing their pistols they rushed into the open space and charged upon
the warriors, firing as they came.

The Indians were Wyandots, men who knew little of fear, but the surprise
and the deadly nature of the attack was too much for them. Perhaps
superstition also mingled with their emotions. Doubtless the spirits of
the lake were angry with them for some cause, and the best thing they
could do was to leave it as soon as they could. But one as he ran did
not forget to poise his hatchet for a cast at the prisoner. The Reverend
Silas Pennypacker would have seen his last sun that day had not Henry
noticed the movement and quickly fired his pistol at the uplifted hand.
The bullet pierced the Indian's palm, the tomahawk was dashed from his
hand, and with a howl of pain he sped after the others who were flying
for the boats.

Henry and his comrades did not pursue. They knew that they must act with
all speed, as the Wyandots would quickly recover from their panic, and
come back in a force that was still two to one. A single sweep of his
knife and his old schoolmaster's arms were free. Then he shouted in the
dazed man's ears:

"Come, Mr. Pennypacker, we must run for it! Don't you see who we are?
Here's Paul Cotter, and I'm Henry Ware, and these are Sol Hyde and Tom
Ross! We've got a boat on the other side of the island and the sooner we
get there the better!"

He snatched up a rifle, powder horn and bullet pouch from one of the
fallen war