The fire was rapidly leaping upward, and the barn was soon enveloped in flames. The Indians could not now be seen through the cracks, nor could their voices be heard, and the fire-besieged fugitives supposed they had gone to new fields of blood and rapine.
"We can't stand it much longer—kin we?" said Ethan, as they heard the crash of some falling timbers at the other end of the building.
"We are not burned yet, but I am nearly suffocated by the smoke," replied Fanny. "Do you suppose the Indians are gone?"
"I reckon they be; but they hain't gone fur yit," added Ethan, as he applied his shoulder to one of the boards on the side of the barn.
"Let me help you," said Fanny.
"You ain't nothin' but a gal, and you can't do much," replied Ethan.
He was a stout boy, and the board, only slightly nailed, gave way before the pressure he applied to it; but it required a great deal of labor to detach it from the timbers above and below. He had not begun this work a moment too soon, for the flames were sweeping over the surface of the mow, and the roof was falling in upon them. The barn was stored full of new hay, which, being partially green, did not burn very readily, especially the solid masses of it. The heat was intense, and nothing but a greater peril without could have forced them to remain so long in the building.
The first board was removed, and then a second, leaving an opening wide enough for them to get out. They were about fifteen feet above the level of the ground, but there was no difficulty, even to Fanny, in the descent, though some young ladies might have regarded this minor obstacle as one of some importance. Ethan thrust his head out at the aperture, and looked in every direction his position commanded a view of, in search of the Indians, but none of them were in sight.
"Be quick, Ethan, or the fire will be upon us," said Fanny, who began to feel the near approach of the flames above her.
"Where shall we go when we get out? We must understand matters a leetle grain aforehand."