"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 are six of them!" "Here comes another crowd from the shed!" ejaculated Ralph. "They have divided up," said the frontiersman. "Boys, I'm afraid we now have a stiff piece of work cut out for ourselves. A third party is coming from the rear, and there is no telling but what there may be still more. We must do our best and fight to a finish, for they are on the war-path for fair, and they'll show us no mercy if once they git at us. Load up and fire jest as quick as ye can! Give it to 'em hot!" As Poke Stover finished, he leaped to the window nearest to him, shoved the muzzle of his weapon through the port-hole, and pulled the trigger. A yell went up as one of the redskins threw up his arms and fell. But then the others came on faster than ever, yelling and shouting in a manner to cause the stoutest heart to falter. Surely, as Stover had said, it would be a fight to the finish, and they were but three to seventeen. Dan was at one port-hole and Ralph at another, and now both fired simultaneously. Whether the shots were effective they could not tell. Certainly none of the Indians dropped.