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shout of warning reached Rodney's ears, and the young man turned in time to see his father go down as just described. He gave a cry of horror and then, with set teeth, discharged his gun straight at the warrior who had laid Mr. Morris low. His aim was true and the Indian fell to rise no more.

The fall of his uncle nerved Dave to greater effort, and as the Indians rushed over the rocks he, with several others, met them in a short but bitter hand-to-hand contest, in which blows were freely taken and delivered. The redskins were yelling at the top of their lungs and using their tomahawks with great viciousness. Dave was confronted by a tall warrior who did his best to split the youth's head open with his hatchet, but Dave dodged and the blow merely grazed his shoulder. Then, before the Indian could aim another blow a bullet from the rear cut short the redskin's career forever.

The forest was now full of shouting, and shots were being fired with marvelous rapidity. Those