A passage was opened for him to enter.  He pulled the trigger—­the pistol missed fire—­he deliberately poured in fresh priming from his horn, and once more taking aim, the pistol was discharged, and, running to the house, and entering a little beyond the threshold, he paused, and turned to behold the realization of his hopes.  The light combustible matter flashed up brightly, and the blaze ran along the ground a moment in the direction of the end of the reed; but at the instant when all expected to see the powder ignited, the flames seemed to die away, and the darkness which succeeded impressed them with the fear that the damp snow had, indeed, defeated their purpose.

“Split me if it shan’t go off!” cried Sneak, running out with a torch in his hand, that he snatched from the fireplace.  When he reached the trench that had been dug along the palisade, and in which the slow match was placed, he looked down but once, and dashing his fire-brand behind him, sprang back to the house, with all the celerity of which he was capable.  “Dod!” said he, “it’s burning yet, but we couldn’t see it from here.  It’ll set the powder off in less than no time!”

“I trust it will!” said Boone, with much anxiety.  And truly the crisis had arrived, beyond which, if it were delayed a single minute, it would be too late!  The voices of the Indians could now be heard, and the sounds of the tomahawks had ceased.  They were evidently on the eve of breaking through the icy barrier, and rushing upon their victims.  Boone, with a composed but livid brow, placed his hand upon the ponderous door, for the purpose of retreating within, and barring out the ruthless assailants.  The rest instinctively imitated his motions, but at the same time their eyes were yet riveted on the dimly burning match.  A small flash was observed to illumine the trench—­another and a larger one succeeded!  The first train of powder was ignited—­the Indians were bursting through the snow-crust with direful yells—­the blaze ran quickly along the plank—­it reached the end of the reed—­a shrill whizzing sound succeeded—­a sharp crash under the snow—­and then all was involved in a tremendous chaotic explosion!  An enormous circular cloud of smoke enveloped the scene for a moment, and then could be seen tomahawks, bows, and arrows, and even savages, sailing through the air.  The moon was darkened for the space of several minutes, during which time immense quantities of snow poured down from above.  The startling report seemed to rend both the earth and the heavens, and rumbled far up and down the valley of the Missouri, like the deep bellowing of a coruscant thunder-cloud, and died away in successive vibrations until it finally resembled the partially suppressed growling of an angry lion.