The scout uttered an exclamation of alarm, and bending down, peered out through the loophole. A glance showed him that the words of Ned were true.
A huge stack of straw, which stood a little way off, had been brought and heaped against the side of the cabin.
This he saw at a glance, and the next moment all was darkness without.
The moon had managed to struggle for a moment through the great mass of black clouds which had suddenly covered the sky, giving signs that a thunder-storm was close at hand.
It was under the cover of these, that they had heaped the combustible material against the walls of the cabin, and Ned had not been able to see what plan they were preparing to carry out, until they had well-nigh done their work.
One of them he had caught a glimpse of as the last armful was being carried, and had sent a bullet crashing through his head.
“What is to be done?” asked Ned in a whisper. “They will fire the straw in a moment now, and the roof of the cabin, owing to the heat, must be as dry as tinder.”
“We must be smoked out like a coon in a hollow tree,” answered the scout. “When it comes to that we must go out and fight hand to hand for our lives.”
“It will be a fearful odds.”
“I know it. But we must take them. At least they shall know that the Death-Dealer is here, and he will not go under until he has made a half-dozen of them bite the dust.”