"The night is so dark that those accursed Pagans could if they liked reach the very edge of the ditch, and it would be impossible for us to notice them; I have, therefore, resolved to set fire to the piles of planks and roots. A man must know how to make sacrifices when needed; these fires which will burn a long while will spread a brilliant light, enabling us to see our enemies for a long distance and fire at them with certainty." "The idea is excellent," Bothrel answered. "Yes," the Captain continued, "still, we must not hide from ourselves that it is extremely perilous; it is plain that Indian scouts are already scattered over the prairies, perhaps very close to us, and when two or three fires have been lighted, if we see them, they will not fail to see us too. Each of us will take the necessary objects, and we will try by the rapidity of our movements to foil the tricks of these demons; remember that we shall act separately, and each of us will have four or five fires to light, so we cannot count on one another. To work!" The combustibles and inflammable matters were shared between the three men and they separated. Five minutes later a spark glistened, then a second, then a third; at the end of a quarter of an hour ten tires were lighted. Weak at first, they seemed to hesitate for a while, but gradually the flame increased, gained consistency, and soon the whole plain was lit up by the blood-red glare of these immense torches. The Captain and his comrades had been more fortunate than they anticipated in their expedition, for they had succeeded in lighting the piles of wood scattered over the valley, without attracting the attention of the Indians; and they hurried back to the entrenchments at full speed. It was high time, for suddenly a terrible war-yell burst forth behind them, and a large band of Indian warriors appeared on the skirt of the forest, galloping at full speed, and brandishing their weapons like a legend of demons. But they came up too late to catch the Whites, who had crossed the ditch and were sheltered from their missiles. A discharge of musketry greeted the arrival of the Indians, several fell from their horses, and the others turned and fled with great precipitation. The fight had commenced, but the Captain cared little about that; thanks to his lucky expedient, a surprise was impossible, and they could see as well as in the daylight. There was a moment's respite, by which the Americans profited to reload their rifles. The colonists had felt anxious on seeing the immense fires lit up one after the other on the prairie; they believed in an Indian device, but were soon disabused, by the Captain's return, and congratulated themselves, on the contrary, upon this happy expedient, which enabled them to fire almost with certainty. The Pawnees, however, had not given up their project of attack; in all probability they had only retired in order to deliberate.