Not a word was spoken by any one, for there was something in the hour, the occasion, and surrounding circumstances that made every heart silent. Irene had fallen into a sort of half-unconscious, dreamy reverie, when she was startled by hearing her mother exclaim: “In mercy’s name, what is that?” The cause of Mrs. Stuart’s exclamation was what appeared to be a bright stream of fire that shot from the northern block-house and ascended high into the sky. A moment’s glance showed it to be a burning arrow cast by their assailants. It arose in a fiery curve, and as it turned and fell described a beautiful arch. Ere it had reached its destination another shot upward, and another, and another, until the air was filled with the hissing, burning missiles. They were flying in every direction, and falling upon the cabins and block-houses. For a moment Irene was bewildered by the scene, and scarcely comprehended it. “Oh, we shall be burned alive!” exclaimed Mrs. Stuart. The daughter saw that one of the burning arrows had struck the cabin within a few feet of her. Here it stuck, while the small twist of flame round the head crackled and snapped in the logs. Without a moment’s hesitation, our heroine stepped forward, and seizing the arrow, drew it forth and threw it upon the ground. “Heaven save us! Ain’t you burnt?” asked her mother. “But slightly; but look, they are falling all around us.” It was true. Everywhere, like serpents of fire, they crossed in the air, while some fell upon the ground, and others buried their keen points in the cabins and block-houses. Little balls of fire were visible in different places, and the air was filling with smoke. As may be supposed, the females were greatly alarmed, and there seemed imminent danger of all the cabins being ablaze in a short time. Women began running to and fro, plucking the arrows and dashing water upon their cabins, while the fiery missiles continued raining down upon them. “Don’t be scart,” called out Moffat, as he rushed among them. “Don’t be scart; these arrers can’t do no harm. The cabins are too green to burn, and the Injins are too green to see it. Jerusalem!” This last exclamation was caused by one of the flaming missiles dropping so close to his person as to graze his coat or hunting-shirt, and set it on fire. He slipped out of it in a twinkling, and dodged back to the block-house as fast as possible. His words had allayed the panic and reassured the females, for he had spoken the truth. The cabins were of such construction that, with one exception, there was the least possible danger of their taking fire, and it was the same with the block-houses and pickets. The wood in them was still green, and full of sap, and the flame borne by the Indian arrows had no effect upon them, except to cause a slight smoke and a great panic.