e
gate with battering-ram logs; the log-carriers fell, but a hundred
warriors stormed the palisade and tore with their knives and tomahawks
and fingers at the pickets.

From the loop-holes the long rifles cracked in a steady drum-fire.
Every man and boy who could raise a muzzle aimed and fired and aimed
and fired again. Every woman was busy--running bullets, filling powder
flasks, loading rifles and leaning them ready for the eager, groping
hands, and serving out water and food.

Two of the strongest women, Mothers Glum and Betsy Wheat, took station
at loop-holes and shot the same as the men. Border women, they, who
well knew the uses of a rifle.

A dummy cannon, of painted wood, had been mounted upon the flat roof of
the commandant's quarters. But the Indian soon saw that it did not
awaken. They laughed and jeered, and grew bolder.

Within the fort all was a reek of powder-smoke; the stout pickets
quivered to the pelting balls--every loop-hole was a target. Never did
a garrison work harder; there was not an idle hand, for the wounded
crawled about, helping.

The Indians withdrew as quickly as they had come, and from the cover of
the cabins shot furiously. In the afternoon they tried once more.
They divided, and launched a heavy attack upon the south end of the
fort. The garrison rushed to repel. A cry arose:

"Here! In the front! Quick!"

The attack had been a feint--battering-rams were crashing against the
gates again. Back to defend the gates ran the men, and the enemy did
not get in.

Toward evening the attacks lessened. The little garrison had a
breathing space, sorely needed. Their faces were grimy, their eyes
wearied, their rifles fouled in spite of the frequent cleanings by the
women. Fortunately the fort had its own well--but how long would the
ammunition and provisions last!

That proved to be a hideous night. About nine o'clock the Indians
rallied, in a third attack. They fired the cabins and out-buildings
before the fort; the blaze gave them light. All was pandemonium.
Colonel Zane saw his home go up in flame and smoke, while the
feathered, shrieking foe danced and capered and deluged the fort with
lead. The whole village blazed, and the frightened cows and horses and
dogs scampered in slaughter.

The fort showed no lights; the Indians' figures were outlined blackly,
and the rifles of the Zanes, the Wetzels, and the others--every man a
dead shot--picked them off.

So the nig