“A small stock of ammunition, this, I guess, to stand a long siege on an empty belly,” drawled forth Cass.

“Just like you—­always croakin’,” sneered Green, “and always thinking of your belly.  Why man, you’ve more ammunition there, I take it, than ever you’ll fire away in your life.”

“And if we haven’t enough,” said the corporal, going to, and taking down and shaking a powder horn, which hung suspended from the wall, that had evidently been overlooked by the Indians, “here are a dozen more charges at least, and the balls of the cartridges have not, I take it, lost their power to drill a hole into a fellow because they’ve been considerably well ducked.  But hark! what noise is that—­listen!”

A low, grating sound, as of some heavy body rubbing against the ground, was now audible at short intervals, to seemed to proceed from the southern gable—­but not a voice was heard.  From the moment when they had uttered their cry of disappointment, on finding the back entrance secured, the Indians had preserved the utmost silence.

Suddenly a yell, pealed from the direction of the river, caused them for the first time to revert to the exposed position of the unfortunate Collins.

“Poor fellow,” said Green, dashing away a tear.  “I wish he was with us.  Somehow or other, I feel as if we should all have a better chance in a fight, were that lad in the middle of it.”

“We shall never see him more!” gravely observed the Virginian; “That shot fired just after he warned us, did his business, depend upon it, and if that one didn’t, it is not likely the blood-hounds would let him off after robbing them of their prey:  no, no, poor Collins has lost his life in saving us.”

Again the yell was repeated, and from the same quarter.  The corporal sprang to the ladder which communicated with the loft, and having placed it under the window on the front, hastily ascended and looked out, for no one had hitherto thought of closing an opening, from which no danger was, seemingly, to be apprehended.

The darkness which had been so excessive at the moment of their entrance, had greatly diminished—­so much so, that he could trace the forms of two or three of the warriors who were stooping low, apparently engaged with some object lying on the very bank of the river.

“Scalping and mutilating the poor fellow, no doubt,” he muttered fiercely to himself, “but here goes to revenge him!”

Forgetting his usual prudence, he, in the strong excitement of the moment, drew up the butt of his musket to his shoulder, and as well as his cramped position would permit, covered one of the savages, but while in the very act of pulling the trigger, they all fell prostrate, and the bullet whizzed harmlessly over them.  In the next instant a ball, aimed at himself, and fired from another quarter, passed through the window, grazing the shoulder slightly bitten by Loup Garou, and lodged in the opposite logs of the room.  A third loud yell followed as the corporal drew in his head and disappeared from the window.  The Indians evidently thought he had been hit, and thus gave utterance to their triumph.