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Updated: May 23, 2025
"We must be ready to leave through the cellar-pit." His hand touched Sokwenna's face; it hesitated, groped in the darkness, and then grew still over the old warrior's heart. There was no tremor or beat of life in the aged beast. Sokwenna was dead. The guns of Graham's men opened fire again. Volley after volley crashed into the cabin as Alan descended the ladder.
"Sokwenna is dead, and Rossland lies out there shot under a flag of truce," he said. "We can't have many minutes left to us." He was looking at the square of light where the tunnel from the cellar-pit opened into the ravine. He had planned to escape through it alone and keep up a fight in the open, but with Mary at his side it would be a desperate gantlet to run.
He sprang back for another gun, and it was Mary who was waiting for him, head and shoulders out of the cellar-pit, the rifle in her hands. She was sobbing as she looked straight at him, yet without moisture or tears in her eyes. "Keep down!" he warned. "Keep down below the floor!" He guessed what was coming.
He watched with the eyes of a deadly hunter, wide-open over his rifle-barrel. Sokwenna was still. Probably he was dead. Keok was sobbing in the cellar-pit. Then he saw a shape growing in the illumination, three or four of them, moving, alive. He waited until they were clearer, and he knew what they were thinking that the bullet-riddled cabin had lost its power to fight.
No living thing could have stood up against what was happening in these moments. Bullets tore through the windows and between the moss-chinked logs, crashing against metal and glass and tinware; one of the candles sputtered and went out, and in this hell Alan heard a cry and saw Mary Standish coming out of the cellar-pit toward him. He had flung himself down quickly, and she thought he was hit!
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