Then they beard a sighing sound, as of a foot
drawn from mud, and they knew that the Iroquois were approaching,
savages in war, whatever they might be otherwise, and expecting
an easy prey. Five brown thumbs cocked their rifles, and five
brown forefingers rested upon the triggers. The eyes of woodsmen
who seldom missed looked down the sights.
The sound of feet in the mud came many times. The enemy was
evidently drawing near.
"How many do you think are out thar?" whispered Shif'less Sol to
Henry.
"Twenty, at least, it seems to me by the sounds." "I s'pose the
best thing for us to do is to shoot at the first head we see."
"Yes, but we mustn't all fire at the same man."
It was suggested that Henry call off the turns of the marksmen,
and he agreed to do so. Shif'less Sol was to fire first. The
sounds now ceased. The Iroquois evidently had some feeling or
instinct that they were approaching an enemy who was to be
feared, not weak and unarmed women and children.
The five were absolutely motionless, finger on trigger. The
American wilderness had heroes without number. It was Horatius
Cocles five times over, ready to defend the bridge with life.
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