and swung it
back and forth several times. He also showed his hat on a stick, and in
a trice came several shots, one going through the head-covering and
entering the closet in the corner. Then he swung the hat out again, and
another shot followed.

During this time the old frontiersman had reached out of the upper
window and beat out part of the fire and hurled the remainder to the
ground, far enough away from the cabin to keep it from doing further
harm. One shot was aimed at him, as the breeze exposed him through the
smoke to the Comanches, but this luckily flew wide of its mark.

"By gosh, but that was a close shave!" ejaculated Stover, as he dropped
back into the loft, while Ralph closed the shutter. His beard was
singed in two places and his face was red and hot. "It's a good thing
that fire wasn't allow to gain no more headway."

He bathed his face and took a drink of water, and then all three began
to speculate upon the next probable movement of the Comanches. By the
clock on the living-room mantel it was now half-past four.

"Father ought to be coming now," said Ralph. "But perhaps he has been
unable to get anybody to come back with him."

"Don't worry about that," returned Poke Stover. "They'll all come if
only they git the word. The buck ague don't go around here." By buck
ague the frontiersman meant the fright which occasionally takes
possession of a pioneer or soldier when facing Indians who are on the
war-path.

It was not long after this that the Indians began to show their
activity once more. Others of the tribe had arrived, until they
numbered eighteen or twenty, the majority of whom were armed with guns,
only one or two of the older warriors sticking to their bows and
arrows.

"I reckon they suspect we are waiting for help, and they mean to do
something before it gits too late," observed Poke Stover. "Perhaps
they'll give us another rush before they withdraw fer good. We had
better inspect all of our shootin'-irons, fer we may want 'em badly."

The frontiersman was right, the Comanches were organising an attack, to
be divided into three parts,--one party to come from the timber
skirting the burn, the second to come up behind the cabin, and the
third to make a dash from behind the cattle shed. The first division
carried a heavy log, with which they hoped to batter down the door in
short order.

"They are coming!" The cry came from Dan, who was watching the timber
in front of the burn. "There