Loud whoops gave the
intimation of this discovery and a rush toward them was made.
"Now, your revolvers," Mr. Hardy said. "We are nearly out of the
village."
Not as yet, however, were the Indians gathered thickly enough to
stop them. A few who attempted to throw themselves in the way were
instantly shot down, and in less time than it has occupied to read
this description they reached the end of the village. As they did
so a bright flame shot up from the furthest hut, and the rest of
the party rushed out and joined them. The Indians in pursuit paused
at seeing this fresh accession of strength to their enemies, and
then, as they were joined by large numbers, and the flame shooting
up brightly enabled them to see how small was the body of whites,
they rushed forward again with fierce yells.
But the whites were by this time a hundred and fifty yards away,
and were already disappearing in the gloom.
"Stop!" Mr. Hardy cried. "Steady with your rifles! Each man single
out an Indian. Fire!"
A yell of rage broke from the Indians as fourteen or fifteen of
their number fell, and a momentary pause took place again. And
then, as they were again reinforced, they continued the pursuit.
But the two hundred yards which the whites had gained was a long
start in the half a mile's distance to be traversed, and the whites
well knew that they were running for their lives; for once
surrounded in the plain, their case was hopeless.
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