An Indian war band was lurking near by, and was on the point of making an effort to carry Freeland's station by an attack in the darkness.

In the dead of the night the attempt was made.

One by one the warriors left the protection of the tangled wood-growth, slipped silently across the open space, and crouched under the heavy timber pickets of the palisades, until all had gathered together.

Though the gate was fastened with a strong bar and chain, the dextrous savages finally contrived to open it.
In so doing they made a slight noise, which caught Robertson's quick ear, as he lay on his buffalo-hide pallet.

Jumping up he saw the gate open, and dusky figures gliding into the yard with stealthy swiftness.
At his cry of "Indians," and the report of his piece, the settlers sprang up, every man grasping the loaded arm by which he slept.