Then the first intimation I had of any movement was the report of Kenton's rifle.
"Did you see anything?" I asked in a tremor.
"No; but they are comin' this way with brushwood, havin' an idea to set fire to the cabin."
Even though the danger which beset us was great, I could not repress my curiosity. It seemed almost as if he had made me a foolish answer, for how might a man know, when it was so dark that one could not see three paces from the cabin in either direction, that the savages were making ready for any such attempt, and I asked how he was so positive as to their movements.
"I have heard them rippin' off the dry branches with their knives, and, just before I fired, knew from the noise in the thicket that they were draggin' the brushwood this way."
I was almost bewildered by this man's knowledge of woodcraft; but refrained from commenting, contenting myself by saying in a tone of satisfaction:
"They will not make much headway at setting these green logs on fire. It is but two days since the rain came down in such torrents that the outside of the cabin must be sodden with water."
"They may succeed in fillin' the room with smoke; but that counts for little. The flames will give us an opportunity which must not be neglected."
It is possible that the savages came to understand all this before carrying out the plan which Kenton believed had been formed, for after he discharged his rifle we heard no more of them, and, finally, when it seemed as if at least eight and forty hours were passed, the gray light came stealing through the thicket, slowly dispelling the darkness, until we had clear range of vision from the loopholes on either hand.
Twenty paces from the front of the house lay a pile of dry brush, telling that Simon Kenton's ears had not deceived him.