This arrow was not heard to slide down the roof and fall to the ground as did the others. It kept its place, and so profound was the stillness within the block-house that every one distinctly heard the crackling of the flames overhead.
More than one heart beat faster, as the friends looked at each other, and more than one face blanched, when the full import of this ominous occurrence became known.
Jo Stinger drew his chair beneath the trap-door and carefully lifted the slabs a few inches. He saw the arrow, which had been fired with astonishing accuracy, and which had been sent to such a height that it descended almost perpendicularly, the flint-head sinking a full inch in the dry wood.
This rapid sweep through air had fanned the twist of tow into a strong blaze, and it was now burning vigorously. The flame was so hot indeed that the shaft had caught fire, and it looked, at the first glance, as though it would communicate with the roof itself.
This was hardly likely; though, as Stinger himself had declared, the danger would be very imminent when a large number were burning at the same time on different portions of the top of the building.
The pioneer extended the barrel of his rifle until he reached the burning missile, when he knocked it loose by a smart blow. As before, it slid down the steeply shelving roof and dropped, smoking, to the ground, where it burned itself harmlessly away.
The expectation was general on the part of the garrison that a shower of burning arrows would now be sent from every portion of the wood. The suspense was great, but, to the surprise of all, the minutes passed without any demonstration of the kind.
The night, like the preceding one, was chilly and crisp, but it was clearer. A gibbous moon shone from the sky, save when the straggling clouds drifted across its face, and sent grotesque shadows gliding along the clearing and over the block-house and woods. A dozen black specks, almost in the shape of the letter Y, suddenly passed over the moon, and the honking cry which sounded high up in air, showed they were wild geese flying southward.
As the minutes wore on without any molestation from the Wyandots, Mrs. Preston went down the ladder and started the smouldering embers into life. This was not for the purpose of cooking, for enough of that was done at noon, and the rations had already been distributed; but it was with a view of adding to the comfort of those above, by giving them a little warmth.
She took care to keep out of the range of any lurking red men who might steal up and fire through the windows on the opposite side, the only spot from which a shot could reach her; but to attain the point of firing, an Indian would have been forced to scale the stockade, and none of them as yet had attempted that.