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