The boys had hastily handed their carbines to Ethel to fit in the
spare chamber, and had taken their place by their father's side.
The gorge was so narrow that there was not room to stand abreast,
and by previous arrangement those who had no revolvers placed
themselves in front, clubbing their rifles, while those with
revolvers fired between them.
Mr. Percy, one of the Jamiesons, and Herries stood a pace or two in
the rear, with their revolvers in hand, as a reserve.
For a few minutes the contest was terrific. The rush of the Indians
partially broke the line, and the whirl of gleaming hatchets, the
heavy crash of the blows with the rifles, the sharp incessant
cracks of the revolvers, the yells of the Indians, the short shouts
of encouragement from the English, and the occasional Irish cry of
Terence, made up a total of confusion and noise which was
bewildering.
Scarce a shot of the whites was thrown away, and a heap of dead lay
across the pass.
Still the Indians pressed on.
The fight was more silent now, the cracks of the revolvers had
ceased, and the whites were fighting silently and desperately with
their rifles. They had not given way a foot, but the short panting
breath told that the tremendous exertion was telling, as they stood
in a line at short intervals, and their weapons rose and fell with
a force and might that the Indian hatchets could seldom stem or
avert.
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