inmates.

The first intimation the defenders had that one of their number had fallen under the heavy fire was when Ben turned to take up the spare gun his mother had placed by his side, and saw his father lying on the floor with a thin stream of blood issuing from his lips.

"Oh, father!" he cried, as he ran toward the wounded man; but when he would have raised the dear head he was motioned away:

"Remember your mother, my boy! You can do me no good, and now there is additional reason why you should not neglect your duty."

By this time Mrs. Kilburne was at her husband's side, and Ben took his station at the loop-hole once more; but the tears blinded him, until it became necessary to brush them away before he could see the feather-bedecked bodies which were here and there upon the stockade ready to leap into the enclosure.

During the next half-hour neither of the boys had an opportunity to so much as glance toward their father. Should the enemy succeed in getting into the enclosure, the result might, and probably would, be fatal to the defenders of the house.

John Pike made valiant battle, nor were the boys lacking in skill and courage. More than one of the foe had met death before he could leap down from the top of the stockade, and four who did succeed were met by bullets while creeping up close to the building, where the timbers would shelter them from the deadly aim of those within.

After this desperate struggle there was a lull in the storm of battle, and Arthur said, in a low tone, as he stood with his eye to the loop-hole,

"Is father badly wounded?"

"I fear so. The blood was gushing from his mouth when I saw him, and he—"

"I will take your place, my son, while you bid your father good-by for evermore in this world," Mrs. Kilburne said, in a voice half stifled with emotion, as she pushed Ben gently aside.

His father was dying, and he could stop only for an instant to receive a last pressure of the enfeebled hands!

When Ben returned he was heroically drying his eyes, that he might resume his duty as sentinel, and Mrs. Kilburne motioned Arthur to follow his brother's example.

"It is hard father should be the one sacrificed," Ben said, huskily, to his mother, not able to glance toward her. "But one bullet has found its way into the building, so Master Pike says, and that entered his body, instead of mine."

"It is not for us to repine, my son. Remember that He doeth all things well. I now look to you and Arthur for protection, and you can best show your grief by doing as your father would have you do this day."

"I wish those painted fiends would show themselves again; there is some little satisfaction in shooting them down."

"Vengeance should not be in your mind at this moment. It is necessary to fight that our lives may be saved, but only for such purpose. Revenge will not lessen the blow or soothe your father's pain."

Then the wife was by her husband's side, and Arthur at his station as watcher.

During the next ten minutes the sound of hatchets against the logs of the stockade could be heard, and then three of the heavy timbers fell inward.

"Now stand steady!" Pike shouted. "They will make a rush, expecting to overpower us by press of numbers, and we must be prepared."

The two boys ran to that side of the house which was most sorely threatened, and had hardly gained new positions when the assault was made.

It was now a question of loading and discharging their muskets as rapidly as possible, only delaying sufficiently long to take careful aim, and when half an hour had passed Ben heard, as if in a dream, Mrs. Pike say to her husband, as she handed him a gun,

"John Kilburne is at rest!"

The boy bravely forced himself to forget, for the time being, the sorrow which had come upon him; and when the conflict was hottest, a shrill cry of pain burst from John Pike's lips as he swayed to and fro an instant, and then fell backward to the floor dead.

"You and I must do the work of four now!" Arthur cried, as if thinking his brother needed encouragement. "Take care of that fellow near your corner; once he is on the other side of the house we shall be smoked out."

A musket-shot was the answer, and as the stifling cloud in the dwelling was increased yet more, the danger pointed out by Arthur had been dispelled.

Now Mrs. Kilburne was at one of the loop-holes, using her husband's weapon with wonderful skill, and when the enemy beat a hasty retreat, unable to face longer the deadly hail poured upon them, she said to her brave sons:

"It may be possible we have driven them back."

"Not yet," Ben replied, gravely. "There are so many that they will not abandon the attack now, but be the more eager for our blood. How is the powder holding out?"

"Mrs. Pike was bringing another keg from the cellar when her husband was killed. I have heard your father say he had enough in the house to withstand a siege of a week."

"Two of the oxen are dead," Arthur cried, as he looked hastily through one of the apertures at the rear of the house. "How did they get out of the barn? I am certain all the cattle were fastened in the stalls when neighbor Pike came."

Ben rushed to his brother's side.

"Some of the Indians have gained shelter there!" he cried, nervously. "Go back to mother, and I will watch here."

He had hardly spoken when three savages were seen coming cautiously out of the building, and again the discharge of the muskets in the room prevented the besieged from hearing any movement or words from each other.

It was an hour past noon when the defenders of the "garrison" had another opportunity for rest, and then, while the women watched, Ben and Arthur cooled the heated barrels of the muskets by pouring water through them.