Sure enough the spark of fire, or whatever it was, grew larger and larger.  Col.  Zane thought it might be a light carried by a man on horseback.  But if this were true where was the clatter of the horse’s hoofs?  On that rocky blur no horse could run noiselessly.  It could not be a horse.  Fascinated and troubled by this new mystery which seemed to presage evil to them the watchers waited with that patience known only to those accustomed to danger.  They knew that whatever it was, it was some satanic stratagem of the savages, and that it would come all too soon.

The light was now zigzagging back and forth across the road, and approaching the Fort with marvelous rapidity.  Now its motion was like the wide swinging of a lighted lantern on a dark night.  A moment more of breathless suspense and the lithe form of an Indian brave could be seen behind the light.  He was running with almost incredible swiftness down the road in the direction of the Fort.  Passing at full speed within seventy-five yards of the stockade-fence the Indian shot his arrow.  Like a fiery serpent flying through the air the missile sped onward in its graceful flight, going clear over the block-house, and striking with a spiteful thud the roof of one of the cabins beyond.  Unhurt by the volley that was fired at him, the daring brave passed swiftly out of sight.

Deeds like this were dear to the hearts of the savages.  They were deeds which made a warrior of a brave, and for which honor any Indian would risk his life over and over again.  The exultant yells which greeted this performance proclaimed its success.

The breeze had already fanned the smouldering arrow into a blaze and the dry roof of the cabin had caught fire and was burning fiercely.

“That infernal redskin is going to do that again,” ejaculated Jonathan.

It was indeed true.  That same small bright light could be seen coming down the road gathering headway with every second.  No doubt the same Indian, emboldened by his success, and maddened with that thirst for glory so often fatal to his kind, was again making the effort to fire the block-house.

The eyes of Col.  Zane and his companions were fastened on the light as it came nearer and nearer with its changing motion.  The burning cabin brightened the square before the Fort.  The slender, shadowy figure of the Indian could be plainly seen emerging from the gloom.  So swiftly did he run that he seemed to have wings.  Now he was in the full glare of the light.  What a magnificent nerve, what a terrible assurance there was in his action!  It seemed to paralyze all.  The red arrow emitted a shower of sparks as it was discharged.  This time it winged its way straight and true and imbedded itself in the roof of the block-house.

Almost at the same instant a solitary rifle shot rang out and the daring warrior plunged headlong, sliding face downward in the dust of the road, while from the Fort came that demoniac yell now grown so familiar.