It was now fiercest in the forest, which
crackled with the rifle shots and the sound of singing bullets.
Innumerable jets of flame sparkled here and there, and then went out, to
be succeeded instantly by others.
Many of the Indian canoes had been sunk by the explosion or the sweep of
the supply fleet, but it was easy for their occupants, if not seriously
wounded, to escape to the land, and they greatly increased the savage
swarm in the woods, chiefly on the north bank of the bayou. Henry and his
friends could hear their warning cries to one another, even their tread,
and they realized that their own skirmishers in the woods would be pressed
hard. Only a determined effort could hold back the horde long enough for
the men to reach the fleet.
While they stood there, seeking the best thing to do, two skirmishers
dashed up, breathless, both slightly wounded, and exclaiming that they
were pursued by a formidable force.
"Jump into the water!" cried Henry. "The boats are only a few yards away!
We'll hold back the savages!"
There were two plunks, as the skirmishers sprang into the Mississippi,
sinking a moment from sight, and then, as they reappeared, swimming
swiftly for the boats. Behind them came their pursuers in a swarm, but
they were driven back by the rifle fire of the little party from Kentucky.
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