“I—I am glad if I did,” answered the youth. Now the danger was past, he found himself trembling like a leaf. “Kill that Injun!” was the cry. “Kill him! He ain’t fit to live!” Swiftly the crowd turned on the red man. The Indian had sunk on the ground in a heap. His wound had broken afresh and he was gasping heavily. Barringford ran to him, hunting knife in hand. Then the old frontiersman shook his head and motioned the others back. “He’s dying, men,” he said. “Let him alone.” “Are ye sure o’ thet, Sam?” asked one man. “Dead sartin.” And Barringford’s words proved true, for the Indian expired soon after. The alarm had put everybody in the post on his mettle, and a strict hunt was made, to see if anybody else was in hiding around the place. Nobody was found, and gradually the garrison settled down. “It is maddening to think that Henry is missing,” said Joseph Morris, shortly after the noon hour. “I would give a great deal to know what has become of him.” “And I’d like to know what Jean Bevoir intends to do next,” returned his nephew. “He and his followers may wait until to-night and then attack us.” Slowly the rest of the day wore away, and during that time all in the post made themselves as comfortable as possible. An examination of the stores showed that the Frenchmen and Indians had provided themselves with plenty of food, so the present garrison would not suffer in that respect. “So far as rations are concerned, we can hold this place for a month,” said Joseph Morris. “And as the river is so near, they cannot very well close off our water supply.” “Jean Bevoir won’t wait to starve us out,” said Barringford. “He’ll attack us, or do somethin’ else, mark my words.” An early supper was had, and then the men on guard began a closer vigilance than ever. Every tree and bush and every rock without was closely watched. The tunnel had been shut up in such a way that it could not be used for the time being. So far there had been little wind, but now a strong breeze came up. Hardly had it started than a shower of fire arrows came sailing over the stockade, to land in many directions. “They are going to try to set fire to the buildings!” cried Dave. “Put out the arrows!” cried Joseph Morris, and ran for some wet bags. With the bags the majority of the fire arrows were quickly extinguished. Two lodged on the roof of the main building, and Dave climbed up to put them out. “Be careful,—don’t expose yourself!” exclaimed his uncle. The instant Dave made a whack with his wet bag at the fire arrow several other arrows flew in the direction, one striking his hunting shirt. The flame on it burnt fiercely and set fire to the youth’s garments. “Look out, you’re burning!” cried one man. “Roll down in the snow!” came from Sam Barringford. This was good advice, and Dave lost no time in following it. Down he came in a pile of snow and rolled over and over, and the small blaze was immediately extinguished.