“I’ll go out to the spring and get a fresh drink. The air will do me good,” he reasoned, and tiptoeing his way back to the bedchamber he slipped on his outer garments for that purpose.
As he made his way to the living room door he saw a shadow glide over the floor, as if something had come in between the rays of the moon and the window close at hand. He looked up, but on the instant the shadow was gone.
Harry stopped short and caught his breath. Was he half asleep still, or had somebody really passed the window? Several times he asked himself that question, but could frame no satisfactory answer.
“I’ll soon make sure,” he murmured, and reached for his gun, which at night was laid on a shelf, loaded and primed for immediate use.
As he caught up the weapon a scraping sound from outside reached his ear. Then came a flare of light through a crack between the cabin logs, and like a flash he realized the truth.
Some enemy was outside, and was on the point of setting the cabin on fire.
CHAPTER XV
FIGHTING THE FLAMES
“Stop, you rascal, stop!”
Such was Harry’s exclamation as he saw the flare of fire and realized what the person outside of the log cabin was bent upon doing.
He knew that the cabin was dry from the hot sun of the day before, and that the timber, once started, would burn like tinder. Moreover, he knew that to obtain sufficient water to put out such a conflagration would be difficult.