The boys had lit a single lantern, but now this was put out, since they were afraid some treacherous red man might still be lurking at hand, to fire at them through a crack in the cabin walls. While Ralph made his survey from above, Dan stood at the door, his hand on the bar, ready to throw it back on an instant's notice. "A man is coming on the run!" announced Ralph, presently. "He is waving for us to open the door. I can't make out who it is." "Is it father?" "No, I can't make out---- It's Poke Stover! Let him in, quick!" Back shot the bolt and up went the heavy bar, and as the door was opened to the width of a foot, the figure of a tall, heavily bearded frontiersman slipped into the cabin. He helped hold the door while Dan secured it again. "Poke Stover!" cried the youth. "I'm mighty glad you've come!" "Are you and Ralph safe?" was the question, as soon as the man could catch his breath, for he had been running with all the swiftness at his command. "Yes, although I've got a scratch on the throat. But father--do you know anything of him?" "Yes, he has gone to Gonzales to bring help. He says he signalled to you from the tall pine." "So he did. Did he have a fight with any of the Indians?" "Yes, he was attacked by Bison Head and Hank Stiger, the half-breed. He put a bullet through Stiger's left calf, and knocked the Injun down with the butt of his gun. That's the reason the two were not with the party that attacked the cabin." "How many are there, all told?" asked Ralph, who had come down the ladder again. "Not more than ten, and one of 'em's dead outside." "And two or three of them are wounded," added Dan. "The wust on it is, they'll be gittin' thicker and thicker," resumed the old frontiersman, who had drifted into Texas from Missouri several years ago, and who had spent all of his life on the plains. "I've half a notion as how Bison Head is tryin' to git the whole Comanche nation on the war-path." "If that's the case, they may organise around here," said Ralph. "How long do you suppose it will be before father gets back?" "He said he would try to make it by daybreak," answered Poke Stover. "It's accordin' as how he finds his men." The talking now dropped off, as the frontiersman said it would be best to remain silent and keep on guard at the various port-holes in the shutters. Slowly the night wore away, until it was three o'clock in the morning. Only one alarm had come, but this had amounted to nothing. "I see a light," announced Dan. "Can it be a camp-fire?" "Not likely, lad," answered Stover. "Comanches on the war-path don't light 'em. It's a signal." "Another signal to attack?" queried Ralph. "More'n likely. We must keep our eyes peeled for 'em." Another half-hour dragged by, and the only sound that broke the stillness was the morning breeze, as it began to stir through the timber surrounding the clearing. Outside not a soul was to be seen.