"Ho, ho, ho! He, he, he!" yelled the monsters, which cries were to them expressions of satisfaction.
It was painfully clear to Ethan and Fanny that the Indians had made some important discovery, or done some act which would accomplish their purpose. More agonizing than the thought came the reality, a few moments afterwards, while the wretches outside of the barn were still shouting their hideous yells. A smell of smoke, accompanied by a sharp, crackling sound, assured the waiting, trembling couple in the hay-mow that their worst fears were realized. The Indians had set fire to the barn.
"We are lost!" exclaimed Fanny. "They have set fire to the barn!"
"'Sh! Don't say a word," interposed Ethan.
"We shall be burned to death!"
"Don't give up; keep still."
"Keep still?" repeated Fanny, amazed at the self-possession of her companion. "We shall be burned to death in a few minutes."
"Don't say nothin', Fanny."
It was not easy to keep still in that terrible moment of peril, but Ethan seemed to know what he was about, and his coolness and courage acted as inspiration upon his terrified companion. Fanny prayed again, in a hardly audible whisper; but this time, Ethan, though perhaps his heart was with her, was thinking of something else. She felt more calm after her prayer, though the dense smoke and the snapping flames admonished her that death was close at hand. The rough prairie boy looked resolute, and seemed to have conquered his fears. She wondered whether he had discovered any possible avenue of escape, for nothing but the promptings of a strong hope, whether real or delusive, could have produced such a change in his bearing.
"Better be burned up, than butchered by the redskins," said he, at last.