“De willian!” muttered Dinah, “and dat’s in my abpartment too–––”
“Sh!” whispered her mistress, touching her arm, “he can’t do any harm, and he must not hear us.”
Had Mrs. Shirril given permission, the servant would have hurried up the ladder and taken the fellow to task, without a moment’s delay or hesitation.
But the Comanche was better prepared for his work than they suspected. They plainly heard him scratch a match on the wall of 156 the room, and the next moment the faintest possible glow showed through the gloom, above the open door at the head of the ladder. The redskin was taking the only effectual means at his command to learn his bearings.
With the tiny light still burning, he passed quickly from one room to another, his location being easily told by the listeners below. It took him less than a minute to gain the knowledge he wished, when the match burned out and was flung aside.
“I wonder wheder he’ll set fiah–––”
A sharp pinch on Dinah’s arm warned her that she was displeasing her mistress, and she closed her mouth.
The Comanche was too wise to attempt to go down the ladder with a burning match in his hand. Had he done so, he would have committed the fatal error of the citizen who awakes in the night and sets out with lighted lamp to hunt for a burglar: all the advantage is on the side of the law-breaker.
But the Indian had seen the ladder leading from the second story to the lower floor, and the women were sure he would pay them a 157 visit. Indeed, his errand would be futile unless he did so, for it was not to be supposed that he had come into the cabin through simple curiosity.
Mrs. Shirril had no fear of his trying to burn the structure, for, if he did so, his own situation would be as hopeless as theirs. The sounds of firing and the noise on the roof, which soon reached her ears, caused great uneasiness for her husband, but, like a pioneer’s wife, she gave her whole attention to the peril that confronted her.