“Put out the arrows!” cried Joseph Morris, and ran for some wet bags. With the bags the majority of the fire arrows were quickly extinguished. Two lodged on the roof of the main building, and Dave climbed up to put them out.
“Be careful,—don’t expose yourself!” exclaimed his uncle.
The instant Dave made a whack with his wet bag at the fire arrow several other arrows flew in the direction, one striking his hunting shirt. The flame on it burnt fiercely and set fire to the youth’s garments.
“Look out, you’re burning!” cried one man.
“Roll down in the snow!” came from Sam Barringford.
This was good advice, and Dave lost no time in following it. Down he came in a pile of snow and rolled over and over, and the small blaze was immediately extinguished.
One of the arrows shot last had got a good hold between the logs of the roof and was burning at a lively rate.
“We ought to have some water,” said Joseph Morris.
“Snow will do,” answered the old frontiersman, and taking up a good-sized chunk, he hurled it at the arrow. His aim was good and the fire was blotted out. Then others took up handfuls of snow, and as soon as the burning arrows appeared, covered them completely; so that that new danger was quickly past.
The Indians under Moon Eye had hoped much from their burning arrows and were deeply chagrined to see them put out so easily. They sent out half a hundred or less and then ceased operations.