THE BIG STRIKECarrying their own canoe to the river, the two towed the lightly loaded bidarka to the left bank, where they landed at a point opposite the abandoned fort, concealed the two craft, and crept inside their robes. At early daybreak they were awakened by the sound of shots. A scattering volley was followed by the intermittent bellowing of flintlocks. Suddenly the firing ceased. Across the clearing that surrounded the fort rushed many figures. Dwarfed by distance, they looked like curious animated dolls. There was a massing before the door, then no figures were in sight as the Indians disappeared into the interior.
Matthew laughed. “They’ll find just about enough grub in there for one good feed. I’d like to be where I could watch ’em when they try to work those muskets.”
“Look,”
