“Are you sure?” demanded Joseph. “Are you sure you hear war whoops?”
“Ugh,” grunted Deerfoot.
“This is terrible!” cried Joseph. “It seems as if we ought to have warned them. What shall we do?”
“How could we have warned them?” demanded Robert. “We’d have been killed ourselves if we had tried to get here any sooner.”
“But what shall we do?”
“I don’t know. Ask Deerfoot.”
The first faint streaks of dawn were now lighting up the sky. Little by little objects began to be distinguishable and as Joseph turned to Deerfoot for an answer to his question, the Indian pointed to something he saw in the distance. Both boys instantly gazed in the direction he indicated.
“What is it?” demanded Joseph in a low voice.
“Smoke.”
“Sure enough,” cried Robert. “I see it. They are burning the Scotts’ house just as they burned ours. They’re probably all dead by now.”