Ned in the Block-House: A Tale of Early Days in the West

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

"You speak the solemn truth, Colonel, but it aint sartin the varmints have got us anyway—helloa!"

To the consternation of every one in the block-house the tread of feet was heard on the roof at that moment. Some one ran nimbly along the slabs, stooping down and holding himself from slipping by grasping the ridge with his hands.

By what possible means he gained this perch, was beyond the conjecture of any one; but the crisis was too grave to admit of an instant's delay. The warrior, beyond a doubt, had assumed this perilous risk with a view of tearing off the blankets, which shielded the roof from the flaming arrows.

Jo Stinger dropped his gun, sprang upon a stool, and leaped upward through the trap-door. Had he vaulted upon the roof with less celerity, he would have been dispatched by the Indian, who would have had him almost at his mercy; but the first warning the Wyandot received of his coming was his arrival.

The scout was aroused, and no athlete could have handled himself more deftly than did he. The very moment he was outside he moved several feet away from the opening and placed himself astride of the ridge pole.

This was the most secure position he could hold, and he peered around in the darkness and listened for something that would tell him where his enemy was. His unusually keen vision was of no use under the circumstances. There was not the slightest ember burning near him, nor was there a ray of moonlight or starlight to pierce the blackness of night.

But the Wyandot was there. He had removed several of the blankets, and was working at the others when the sound of the trap-door told him the important truth that a second person was on the roof.

The warrior could have slid down to the eaves and dropped to the ground without injury to himself; but that would have forced him to leave his work uncompleted, and he was too true a brave to do that.

Nothing loth to engage in a personal encounter, he began stealing along the ridge toward the point where he believed the white man was awaiting him. As Stinger held himself rigid and motionless, his precise location could not be determined at once; but the Indian's approach, guarded though it was, told Jo exactly where to search for his adversary.

Never was a barbarian taken more completely at fault. He made a fatal miscalculation, and one minute later, when he fell to the ground, he was as lifeless as the dummy which preceded him.