"I think we had better go down to the lake. We can take the boat and go over to the island."
"That's fust rate," replied Ethan, with enthusiasm. "The Injins hain't got no boats, and can't foller us. Now we'll go down; but be keerful. It would be miser'ble to break your neck here, arter gittin' clear of the fire and the Injins both."
Ethan descended, holding on at each side of the aperture with his hands, and thrusting his feet into the solid mass of hay in the mow. Fanny, adopting the same method, also reached the ground in safety.
"'Sh!" said Ethan, as he took her arm. "Run for them bushes!" and he pointed to a little thicket near the barn.
Fanny ran with all her speed to the bushes, and concealed herself behind them. She was immediately followed by Ethan. The barn was now nearly consumed; the portion of the roof which had not before fallen in, now sunk down with a crash upon the masses of burning hay. The lake was beyond the house, which they were obliged to pass in order to reach their destination.
"I s'pose the sooner we start, the sooner we'll git there," said Ethan, after he had carefully surveyed the ground to ascertain if any savages were near.
"I am ready, Ethan. I will do whatever you say."
"We'll go now, then. Foller me, Fanny."
Ethan led the way, but they had hardly emerged from the bushes before they were appalled to find that they were discovered by their savage foes.
"Ho, ho, ho!" yelled the Indians from behind them.