Glass accepted the ultimatum with a torrent of profanity and threats, and a moment later the firing recommenced. For some minutes the bullets rained against the logs, while the besieged, flattened on the floor, kept watch at loopholes and crevices for any of the enemy who might expose themselves. The plucky little band well realized that their fight was desperate and well-nigh hopeless, but not a word or sign of fear betrayed what they felt. Presently the firing ceased, and now there were indications that the foe intended to make a combined rush. So certain of this was Barnabas that he summoned Nathan and his companions to the front wall. But for at least once in his life the old woodsman was outmatched. The Indians and Tories advanced only to the edge of the clearing, whence they let drive a straggling volley, and while this diversion was going on, three torches were thrown from the rear upon the roof of the cabin. A strong breeze happened to be blowing, and with amazing rapidity the flames took hold and spread. The roof was soon burned through in patches, and now the loft floor caught fire. Clouds of suffocating smoke rolled to the lower room, and a shower of sparks and blazing embers made the situation unbearable. "It's all up with us here," cried Barnabas, "an' there's nothin' left to do but die fightin'. Come, men, let's open the door, give the devils a volley, an' make a rush. Each one for hisself arter that, an' mebbe one or two of us kin reach the woods." CHAPTER XI IN WHICH GODFREY PLEADS FOR THE CONDEMNED PRISONERS Without waiting for an answer, Barnabas jerked the table away and swung the door partly open. The enemy were on the watch and immediately opened a hot fire. Two bullets struck Reuben Atwood, and he fell dead across the threshold. The others dodged back into the heat and smoke, and just at the critical moment the firing ceased in response to a loud command. "It's the Tory colonel hisself," exclaimed Barnabas, as he peeped through a crevice. "He's just arrived, an' there's lots of Royal Greens along with him." "Colonel Butler," he added loudly, "we'll surrender, providin' you spare our lives." "Come out first, and then we'll talk," the officer shouted back after a brief pause. There was hope in the words, and Barnabas and his companions lost no time in scrambling to their feet. Half-choked, and sweating from every pore, they stepped over Atwood's dead body and staggered across the clearing. At sight of the three figures there was a loud murmur of astonishment. "Where's the rest?" demanded Simon Glass, as he roughly stripped the prisoners of their muskets. "We're all here but one," Barnabas answered, pointing to the doorway, "an' he's dead." "I'll send you to join him," snarled Glass, and with that he presented a gun to the old man's head. But before he could fire, Colonel Butler knocked the weapon aside. "You ruffian!" he exclaimed. "Would you shoot a prisoner in cold blood?"