Long-Hair had planned to capture his prey, not kill it.

Every savage had his orders to take the white men alive; Hamilton's larger reward depended on this.
Right on they came, as fast as their nimble legs could carry them, yelling like demons; and they reached the grove before the three white men could reload their guns.

Then every warrior took cover behind a tree and began scrambling forward from bole to bole, thus approaching rapidly without much exposure.
"Our 'taters is roasted brown," muttered Oncle Jazon.

He crossed himself.

Possibly he prayed; but he was priming his old gun the next instant.
Kenton fired again, making a hurried and ineffectual attempt to stop the nearest warrior, who saved himself by quickly skipping behind a tree.