“Good gracious!  Eb, look!  It is the string off the prize bullet pouch I made, and that Wetzel won on Isaac’s wedding day.  It is a message from Lew,” said Betty.

“Well, by Heavens!  This is strange.  So it is.  I remember that string.  Cut it off, Jack,” said Col.  Zane.

When Jonathan had cut the string and held it up they all saw the lead bullet.  Col.  Zane examined it and showed them what had been rudely scratched on it.

“A letter W. Does that mean Wetzel?” asked the Colonel.

“It means war.  It’s a warning from Wetzel—­not the slightest doubt of that,” said Jonathan.  “Wetzel sends this because he knows we are to be attacked, and because there must have been great doubt of his getting back to tell us.  And Tige has been shot on his way home.”

This called the attention to the dog, which had been momentarily forgotten.  His head rolled from Betty’s knee; a quiver shook his frame; he struggled to rise to his feet, but his strength was too far spent; he crawled close to Betty’s feet; his eyes looked up at her with almost human affection; then they closed, and he lay still.  Tige was dead.

“It is all over, Betty.  Tige will romp no more.  He will never be forgotten, for he was faithful to the end.  Jonathan, tell the Major of Wetzel’s warning, and both of you go back to your posts on the river.  Silas, send Capt.  Boggs to me.”

An hour after the death of Tige the settlers were waiting for the ring of the meeting-house bell to summon them to the Fort.

Supper at Col.  Zane’s that night was not the occasion of good-humored jest and pleasant conversation.  Mrs. Zane’s face wore a distressed and troubled look; Betty was pale and quiet; even the Colonel was gloomy; and the children, missing the usual cheerfulness of the evening meal, shrank close to their mother.

Darkness slowly settled down; and with it came a feeling of relief, at least for the night, for the Indians rarely attacked the settlements after dark.  Capt.  Boggs came over and he and Col.  Zane conversed in low tones.

“The first thing in the morning I want you to ride over to Short Creek for reinforcements.  I’ll send the Major also and by a different route.  I expect to hear tonight from Wetzel.  Twelve times has he crossed that threshold with the information which made an Indian surprise impossible.  And I feel sure he will come again.”

“What was that?” said Betty, who was sitting on the doorstep.

“Sh-h!” whispered Col.  Zane, holding up his finger.

The night was warm and still.  In the perfect quiet which followed the Colonel’s whispered exclamation the listeners heard the beating of their hearts.  Then from the river bank came the cry of an owl; low but clear it came floating to their ears, its single melancholy note thrilling them.  Faint and far off in the direction of the island sounded the answer.

“I knew it.  I told you.  We shall know all presently,” said Col.  Zane.  “The first call was Jonathan’s, and it was answered.”