"You must have sent it over the block-house," said Ned, turning to Deerfoot; "and in that case——"
He stopped, for the same shadowy smile on the handsome face of the young Shawanoe told the truth: the arrow had gone directly through the window, and the curious fluttering shadow which caught the eye of Preston was the missile with its message.
"That is the most wonderful shot I ever saw!" exclaimed Ned in a burst of admiration; "if I could use the bow as you do, I never would touch a gun. But, Deerfoot, is there not danger that some of the Wyandots saw the arrow in its flight?"
"If they were looking across the clearing, they saw it perhaps; but Deerfoot hopes they did not."
"Suppose you had missed the window,—that the arrow had struck the roof, or the ground, or the logs at the side of the opening, it would have buried its head and stayed in plain sight, would it not?"
"Yes, and the Wyandots would be certain to see it."
"And would soon know where it came from?"
"Nothing could have prevented."
"My gracious!" exclaimed Ned; "you ran a great risk."
"We did; there was no way to prevent it."