"There is no water," she said very quietly. "The well is a hundred yards from the house."
I beckoned to the negroes, who were listening in an anxious group, and hastened back to Brightson.
"There is no water," I said to him briefly. "I am going to open the shutter, drop down, and knock the fire away from the house. Do you be ready to pull me back in again, when I have finished."
"But it is death to do that," he exclaimed.
"No, no," I said. "You and the boys can keep them off. There is no other way."
He turned from me and looked about the room.
"This will save you," he cried, and ran to a heavy oak table which stood in one corner. I looked at him for a moment without understanding.
"We will throw it through the window," he explained. "You can drop behind it, and the Indians' bullets cannot reach you."
I saw his plan before he had finished, and we had the table at the window in an instant.
"Now, boys, all together," I cried, and as I threw the shutter back, they lifted the table to the sill and pushed it through. Before the Indians understood what was happening, I had dropped beside it, pulled it around to screen me, and was kicking the brands away from the building. Then they understood, and made a rush for the house, but met so sharp a reception from Brightson and his men that they fell back, and contented themselves with keeping up a sharp fusilade upon my place of concealment. It was the work of only a few moments to kick away the brands and beat out the flames which were running along the side of the house. I signaled to Brightson that I was ready to return, and he opened a heavy fire upon the savages, which drove them for a moment out of musket range. Then throwing the shutter back, he leaned out, grasped my hands, and pulled me into the house without a scratch.