“Look, see thar, Massa Zane,” came the answer in a hoarse whisper from the negro and at the same time he pointed down toward the ground.

Col.  Zane put his head alongside Jonathan’s and all three men peered out into the darkness.

“Jack, can you see anything?” said Col.  Zane.

“No, but wait a minute until the moon throws a light.”

A breeze had sprung up.  The clouds were passing rapidly over the moon, and at long intervals a rift between the clouds let enough light through to brighten the square for an instant.

“Now, Massa Zane, thar!” exclaimed the slave.

“I can’t see a thing.  Can you, Jack?”

“I am not sure yet.  I can see something, but whether it is a log or not I don’t know.”

Just then there was a faint light like the brightening of a firefly, or like the blowing of a tiny spark from a stick of burning wood.  Jonathan uttered a low curse.

“D—­n ’em!  At their old tricks with fire.  I thought all this quiet meant something.  The grass out there is full of Indians, and they are carrying lighted arrows under them so as to cover the light.  But we’ll fool the red devils this time”

“I can see ’em, Massa Zane.”

“Sh-h-h! no more talk,” whispered Col.  Zane.

The men waited with cocked rifles.  Another spark rose seemingly out of the earth.  This time it was nearer the house.  No sooner had its feeble light disappeared than the report of the negro’s rifle awoke the sleeping echoes.  It was succeeded by a yell which seemed to come from under the window.  Several dark forms rose so suddenly that they appeared to spring out of the ground.  Then came the peculiar twang of Indian bows.  There were showers of sparks and little streaks of fire with long tails like comets winged their parabolic flight toward the cabin.  Falling short they hissed and sputtered in the grass.  Jonathan’s rifle spoke and one of the fleeing forms tumbled to the earth.  A series of long yells from all around the Fort greeted this last shot, but not an Indian fired a rifle.

Fire-tipped arrows were now shot at the block-house, but not one took effect, although a few struck the stockade-fence.  Col.  Zane had taken the precaution to have the high grass and the clusters of goldenrod cut down all round the Fort.  The wisdom of this course now became evident, for the wily savages could not crawl near enough to send their fiery arrows on the roof of the block-house.  This attempt failing, the Indians drew back to hatch up some other plot to burn the Fort.

“Look!” suddenly exclaimed Jonathan.

Far down the road, perhaps five hundred yards from the Fort, a point of light had appeared.  At first it was still, and then it took an odd jerky motion, to this side and to that, up and down like a jack-o-lantern.

“What the hell?” muttered Col.  Zane, sorely puzzled.  “Jack, by all that’s strange it’s getting bigger.”