The smallness of the force, and its almost entire incompetence to yield him any relief, filled the soldier’s breast with despair; but, hopeless as he was, he could not see the gallant young men rushing blindly among the savages, each of whose rifles was already selecting its victim, without making an effort to apprize them of their danger.  Forgetting, therefore, his own situation, or generously disregarding it, he summoned all his strength, and, as they began to descend the hill, shouted aloud, “Beware the ambush!—­Halt”—­But before the words were all uttered, he was grasped by the throat with strangling violence, and the old warrior, whose left hand thus choked his utterance, drew his knife a second time, with the other, and seemed for an instant as if he would have plunged it into the soldier’s bosom.

But the cry had not been made in vain, and although, from the distance, the words had not been distinguished by the young Kentuckians, enough was heard to convince them the enemy was nigh at hand.  They came to an immediate halt, and Roland, whose throat was still held by the warrior and his bosom threatened by the vengeful knife, but whose eyes neither the anguish of suffocation nor the fear of instant death could draw from the little band, saw them leap from their horses, which were given in charge of one of the number, who immediately retired beyond the brow of the hill; while Tom Bruce, a worthy scion of a warlike stock, brandishing his rifle in one hand, and with the other pointing his nine remaining followers down the road, cried, in tones so manly that they came to Roland’s ear,—­“Now, boys, the women’s down thar, and the red skins with them!  Show fight, for the honour of Kentuck and the love of woman.  Every man to his bush, and every bullet to its Injun!  Bring the brutes out of their cover!”

This speech, short and homely as it was, was answered by a loud shout from the nine young men, who began to divide, with the intention of obeying its simple final instructions; when the Indians, seeing the design, unwilling to forego the advantage of the first open shot and perhaps hoping by a weak fire to mask their strength, and decoy the young Kentuckians into closer quarters, let fly a volley of six or seven guns from the bushes near to where Roland lay, but without doing much mischief, or even deceiving the young men, as was expected.

“Thar they go, the brutes!” roared Tom Bruce, adding as he sprang with his followers among the bushes, “show ’em your noses, and keep a good squint over your elbows.”

“Long-knife big fool,—­Piankeshaw eat him up!” cried, the old warrior, now releasing the soldier’s throat from durance, but speaking with tones of ire and indignation:  “shall see how great Injun fighting-man eat up white man!”

With these words, leaving Roland to endure his bonds, and solace himself as he might, he crept away into the long grass, and was soon entirely lost to sight.