There were many reasons why the Arnolds were not fearing an attack at the time, the principal one being that the Indians had recently been defeated at Date Creek.  With that affair they seemed to have withdrawn, and no signs of them had been seen since.

Near the close of the afternoon of the fourth day of Henry’s visit a party of forty-one Apaches had suddenly appeared, and had spent an hour or more reconnoitring the valley and its approaches.  Apparently becoming satisfied that they would not be interrupted in their attack by outside parties, they began active operations by collecting the Arnold cattle and horses, and placing them in charge of two of their number near the spring.

Next they fired one of the out-buildings, and under cover of the smoke gained entrance to a second, which stood less than a hundred feet from the north side of the house.  Knocking the mud and chips from between the logs here and there, they were enabled to open fire upon the settlers at short range.

With the first appearance of the Indians, Mr. Arnold, assisted by two travellers who had arrived that afternoon from Date Creek on their way to Prescott, closed the windows and doorways with heavy puncheon shutters, removed the stops from the loop-holes, directed the girls to carry provisions and property into the earthwork, got the arms and ammunition ready, and awaited further demonstrations.

The available defensive force consisted of every member of the family, including Sergeant Henry Burton and the two strangers.  The mother and daughters had been taught the use of fire-arms by the husband and father, and Brenda had been taught by the boy sergeants.  In an emergency like the one being narrated, where death and mutilation were sure to follow capture, the girls were nerved to do all that could have been expected of boys at their ages.

Until the Apaches gained possession of the second out-building, few shots had been exchanged, and the besieged closely watched their movements through the loop-holes.  It was while doing this that a bullet pierced the brain of Mrs. Arnold, and she fell dead in the midst of her family.

The body of Mrs. Arnold was borne to the cellar by the sorrowing husband, accompanied by the weeping children.  The firing became desultory and without apparent effect.  Ball and arrow could not pierce the thick walls of the log-house; only through the loop-holes could a missile enter, and by rare good-fortune none of the defenders, after the first casualty, chanced to be in line when one did.

The family again assembled in defence of their home and lives, the grave necessity of keeping off the impending danger banishing, in a measure, the thoughts of their bereavement.  An ominous silence on the part of the Indians was broken at last by the swish of a blazing arrow to the roof.  Mr. Arnold rushed to the garret, and with the butt of his rifle broke a hole in the covering and flung the little torch to the ground.