And
bullets--"
They had reached Sokwenna's door, and in that moment they hesitated and
turned their faces back to the gloom out of which they had fled. Voices
came suddenly from beyond the corrals. There was no effort at
concealment. The buildings were discovered, and men called out loudly
and were answered from half a dozen points out on the tundra. They could
hear running feet and sharp commands; some were cursing where they were
entangled among the nigger-heads, and the sound of hurrying foes came
from the edge of the ravine. Alan's heart stood still. There was
something terribly swift and businesslike in this gathering of their
enemies. He could hear them at his cabin. Doors opened. A window fell in
with a crash. Lights flared up through the gray mist.
It was then, from the barricaded attic window over their heads, that
Sokwenna's rifle answered. A single shot, a shriek, and then a pale
stream of flame leaped out from the window as the old warrior emptied
his gun. Before the last of the five swift shots were fired, Alan was in
the cabin, barring the door behind him. Shaded candles burned on the
floor, and beside them crouched Keok and Nawadlook. A glance told him
what Sokwenna had done. The room was an arsenal. Guns lay there, ready
to be used; heaps of cartridges were piled near them, and in the eyes of
Keok and Nawadlook blazed deep and steady fires as they held shining
cartridges between their fingers, ready to thrust them into the rifle
chambers as fast as the guns were emptied.
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