dangerous piece, too.

What did it have around it? Chains, by thunder! And hoop-iron! A
log, split and hollowed out, and bound together with stuff from
Reichart's blacksmith shop! Haw-haw!

Watch, everybody! Could the blamed thing possibly stand fire? Hope
not. They were ramming into it powder by the horn full. A ball from
their pile followed. They rammed that also, and wadded it. One of
them hastened with a smoking stick. They pretended to take good aim.
They yelled and shook their guns and hatchets, as they stood aside to
make way for the ball from the muzzle.

Now!

"Flash-whang!"

A great cloud of smoke veiled the spot. No ball issued; only shrieks
and shouts, and from the edges figures dived into the open and thence
into the brush. The smoke cleared. The wooden cannon had disappeared,
but the spot was covered with dead and wounded Indians.

"Help yourselves to more cannon-balls," jeered Captain Sullivan. "We
wish you a dozen such guns."

Reinforcements had set out from Shepherd's Fort, six miles distant.
When they drew near, they saw that they had no hope of entering the
fort, so thick and angry were the attackers. They voted to return and
get recruits; then try again. But that was not to the mind of the lad
Francis Duke--Colonel Shepherd's son-in-law, aged not much over twenty,
and rashly brave.

"I've come too far to turn my back on a place that needs help as badly
as this does. I'm going in, or die for it."

They could not stop him. He spurred at a mad run, straight as an
arrow, hoping to take the enemy by surprise.

"Open the gate! Open the gate!" he shouted, as he neared.

He was seen, and heard. The gate swung for him. Would he make it? He
waved his hat and flourished his rifle--hurrah! He was almost there; a
few strides more--but to a burst of smoke from the outlying cabins and
copse he fell headlong, dead. His horse galloped riderless.

The cannon accident had infuriated the Indians to the last degree.
They were especially bent upon taking the Zane cabin, which held them
off. Within the cabin matters were tightening up. The powder was
getting low. The drain upon it had been constant.

"We must have powder, boys," spoke Colonel Zane. "The fort will supply
us. Who'll go and fetch it on the run?"

There were looks. Betty Zane heard and stepped forward.

"I'll go, brother Eb. You can't spare a man."

"No, you sha'n't, Betty. It's man's work. Besides, you're