bayonets, waiting the signal to fire.

Suddenly the Indian warwhoop burst from a hundred throats. A second time
the frightful yell was repeated, rendered more hideous by the shrill
tones of the squaws and maidens, who struck up the death-song, and were
seen running and dancing like demons round the blazing huts. The next
instant, with brandished arms and shouts of fury, the Indians rushed
towards the creek.

A malicious smile played over the hard features of the pirate as the Red
men came charging down upon his band.

"Reserve, forward!" cried he, turning to the picket. The order was
obeyed. In profound silence Lafitte allowed the howling Indians to
advance to within ten paces of the musket muzzles, and then uttered a
hoarse "Fire!" A deadly volley was poured in, and the first rank of the
assailants fell to a man. Their comrades started back, but instantly
returning to the charge, threw themselves with a desperate leap upon the
pirates. The latter coolly tossed their muskets into the hollow of their
left arms, and drew their pistols; a second volley in which the fire of
the reserve picket mingled, threw the Red men into utter confusion. The
slope of the shore was covered with killed and wounded, and the
survivors fled howling to the cover of the thicket.

"March!" commanded Lafitte. The picket again approached the boat,
followed by the main body.

At that moment, when to all appearance the retreat of the pirates was
ensured, four heavy splashes in the water were heard, and Lafitte saw
the four men who had been in charge of the boats, rise to the surface of
the water and then disappear for ever. At the same time the boats
themselves, impelled by some invisible power, shot, with the swiftness
of an arrow, into the centre of the stream.

"'Tis the Mexican!" exclaimed the pirate, gnashing his teeth with fury,
and firing a brace of pistols at the boat. A hollow laugh replied to the
shots. The pirates looked around them, saw that their boats had
disappeared, and for a moment stood thunderstruck, but speedily
recovering themselves, they reloaded their muskets, and, firm as rocks,
awaited a fresh assault. They had not long to wait. A volley from the
river warned them of the proximity of a new foe; a second, still better
directed, stretched a third of them upon the ground. And now once more
the terrible war-cry resounded along the shore, and the Indians, roused
to madness by their previous repulses, rushed for a third time