"Hello, here she come agin!"
It was Jo Stinger who uttered the exclamation, and he was facing the Licking river. There was a general rush across the room to gain a view of the flaming shaft, but before it could be done, it struck the roof above, held a minute, and then, as if its grip was burned away, it was distinctly heard as it fell over and slowly slid down the planks and dropped to the ground, as did the first one.
"If they do that every time," said Ned Preston, "they won't cause us much harm."
"I don't like it," replied the Colonel; "it kept its place too long on the roof."
"Not long enough to do any damage."
"I am not so sure: I must see."
Drawing a chair beneath the trap-door, he stepped on it and cautiously raised the planks a few inches. This permitted a view of all the roof on that side. He observed a scorched spot within reach of his hand, but there was no evidence of injury from the flaming arrow which struck and held a brief time.
The trap was closed again, and the Colonel stepped down from the chair. All looked expectantly at him, but beyond telling what he had seen, he said nothing.
The interest of the garrison was such that they kept their places at the loopholes, through which they scrutinized the clearing, the cabins and the woods beyond, watchful to detect the first evidence of what their enemies were doing.
This close attention caused the autumn afternoon to seem much longer than it really was, but nothing more took place to give the defenders any uneasiness. They saw the shades of night once more closing about them, while they were environed so closely on every hand by the vengeful Wyandots, that flight for any one was utterly out of the question.