She stepped back a pace, and placing the butt of the musket against her hip, with the muzzle slanting upwards, stood firm as a statue.
The door was soon forced and the fiends came tumbling in.

Mrs.Godfrey fired, the charge going over the heads of the savages and entering the ceiling above the door.

The Indians in the rear seeing their comrades fall, and thinking they were killed by the shot, at once retreated uttering terrible threats of vengeance.

One of the squaws, a short, stout old creature, was so terrified by the report of the musket and the falling to the floor of the three Indians, that in her bewildered retreat she tumbled headlong down a steep, stony bank and laid as if dead on the ice below.

She was left by her companions, who travelled as fast as their legs would carry them.