But the time is come to do something.

Here we are with but five or six men--" He was interrupted by the arrival of two more half-breed scouts.
Only three miles away was a large flotilla of boats and canoes with cannon, a force of Indians on land and the British flag flying,--that was the report.
"They are moving rapidly," said the spokesman, "and will be here very soon.

They are at least six hundred strong, all well armed." "Push that gun to the gate, and load it to the muzzle, Lieutenant Beverley," Helm ordered with admirable firmness, the purple flush in his face giving way to a grayish pallor.

"We are going to die right here, or have the honors of war." Beverley obeyed without a word.

He even loaded two guns instead of one--charging each so heavily that the last wad looked as if ready to leap from the grimy mouth.
Helm had already begun, on receiving the first report, a hasty letter to Colonel Clark at Kaskaskia.