For the moment he had forgotten all about the men outside in his eagerness to put out the fire, but memory returned in a flash as he heard a sharp ping and a bullet struck the log just over his head. He pulled his head in with a jerk.
“That was pretty close,” he gasped.
“I’ll say so,” Jack agreed; “but how’s the fire? Did you see it?”
Instead of replying, Bob threw himself on the floor directly beneath the opening, and filling the dipper with water, he reached out and poured it down the side of the logs.
“It’s hardly more than started to catch on the logs,” he explained, as he reached for a second dipper of water. “If I can hit the right spot this will put it out all right.”
Bob’s glance out of the opening had revealed the situation to him. The men had piled considerable birch bark and other light stuff against the cabin, but the logs had, fortunately, been slow in catching fire, and the kindling had nearly burned out before the cabin itself was fairly on fire.
He had just reached out with the third dipper of water when another shot was heard, and a bullet struck the dipper and knocked it from his hand.
“Be careful and don’t get in front of that hole,” he cried, as he drew back his arm. “I think it’s out,” he added; “but I guess we’ll have to wait a few minutes and see. It’d be pretty risky to look out just now.”
“You mean it’d be sure death,” Jack declared grimly.
Fifteen minutes passed, during which they watched closely at the peep holes, one on each side of the room.