Ten minutes went by, and they saw nothing of the Indians. Then a yell from a distance rent the air, followed by a number of scattering shots.
“That is over to the Ford cabin,” said Joe. “I hope they haven’t caught Mr. Ford and Darry in the open. If they have it’s good-by to them.”
“I’m going up to the roof to take a look around,” said Harry, and lost no time in climbing the ladder to the loft.
The roof was a sloping one, and near the ridge was a trapdoor or scuttle. Standing on a block of wood that was handy, Harry raised the trapdoor and looked out.
Hardly had he done so than there followed the flight of two arrows directed at him. One struck the roof just below the lad, and the other grazed his hair. He tumbled back and let the trapdoor fall into place with a bang.
“See anything?” queried Joe from below.
“All I want to,” answered Harry, when he could recover sufficiently to speak.
“What do you mean?”
“Two of the wretches fired arrows at me, and they came altogether too close for comfort.”
“Phew! Then this cabin is being watched surely, Harry!”