Despite the frightful situation, Ned Preston could scarcely restrain a cheer, for he was thrilled with a pleasure beyond description over the unexpected discovery that his devoted friend was still alive.
Ned darted to the side of Jo Stinger and told him what he had seen.
"Are you sure of it, younker?" demanded the scout sharply.
"Sure of it? It is impossible that I should be mistaken; I know him as well as I do you, and he stood in the full glare of the firelight."
"You're right; it was the Shawanoe; I seen him; I thought the young varmint was dead, but he's a good deal more alive this minute than we are."
"But, Jo, what does it mean? Why did he come out there where he could be seen, and go into the building?"
"He wanted us to notice him, and it was the best thing he could do. The varmints toward the river and in the clearin' must have cotched sight of him; but before they could larn his name and post-office address, he was inside."
"But I can't understand his cause for entering the cabin any way; what good can he do us there?"
"I've my 'spicion—there! that's what I expected!"
A crackling, snapping sound overhead told the alarming truth: the roof was burning fiercely, and there was no possible way of putting out the flames. In fact, it had been ablaze some time, for the fiery points were seen in several places along the ridge-pole, fast eating their way, so to speak, into the vitals of the building.