The volley that now came from the roofs staggered the savages, most of whom fell outward, and sought cover in their usual quick and dexterous manner.  Three or four, however, thought it safer to fall within the palisades, seeking safety immediately under the sides of the buildings.  The view of these men, who were perfectly safe from the fire of the garrison so long as the latter made no sortie, gave an idea to those without, and produced, what had hitherto been wanting, something like order and concert in the attack.  The firing now became desultory and watchful on both sides, the attacking party keeping themselves covered by the trees and fences as well as they could, while the garrison only peered above the ridge of the roof, as occasions required.

The instant the outbreak occurred, all the ci-devant dependants of captain Willoughby, who had deserted, abandoned their various occupations in the woods and fields, collecting in and around the cabins, in the midst of their wives and children.  Joel, alone, was not to be seen.  He had sought his friends among the leaders of the party, behind a stack of hay, at a respectful distance from the house, and to which there was a safe approach by means of the rivulet and its fringe of bushes.  The little council that was held at this spot took place just as the half-dozen assailants who had fallen within the palisades were seen clustering along under the walls of the buildings.

“Natur’ gives you a hint how to conduct,” observed Joel, pointing out this circumstance to his principal companions, as they all lay peering over the upper portions of the stack, at the Hut.  “You see them men under the eaves—­they’re a plaguy sight safer up there, than we be down here; and; if ’twere’n’t for the look of the thing, I wish I was with ’em.  That house will never be taken without a desperate sight of fightin’; for the captain is an old warrior, and seems to like to snuff gunpowder”—­the reader will understand none knew of the veteran’s death but those in the house—­“and won’t be for givin’ up while he has a charge left.  If I had twenty men—­no, thirty would be better, where these fellows be, I think the place could be carried in a few minutes, and then liberty would get its rights, and your monarchy-men would be put down as they all desarve.”

“What do then?” demanded the leading Mohawk, in his abrupt guttural English.  “No shoot—­can’t kill log.”

“No, chief, that’s reasonable, an’ ongainsayable, too; but only one-half the inner gate is hung, and I’ve contrived matters so, on purpose, that the props of the half that isn’t on the hinges can be undone, all the same as onlatching the door.  If I only had the right man here, now, the business should be done, and that speedily.”

“Go ’self,” answered the Mohawk, not without an expression of distrust and contempt.

“Every man to his callin’, chief.  My trade is peace, and politics, and liberty, while your’s is war.  Howsever, I can put you, and them that likes fightin’, on the trail, and then we’ll see how matters can be done.  Mortality!  How them desperate devils on the roof do keep blazin’ away!  It wouldn’t surprise me if they shot somebody, or get hurt themselves!”