Part 22 (2/2)

It was not easy to keep still in that terrible moment of peril, but Ethan seemed to know what he was about, and his coolness and courage acted as inspiration upon his terrified companion. f.a.n.n.y prayed again, in a hardly audible whisper; but this time, Ethan, though perhaps his heart was with her, was thinking of something else. She felt more calm after her prayer, though the dense smoke and the snapping flames admonished her that death was close at hand. The rough prairie boy looked resolute, and seemed to have conquered his fears. She wondered whether he had discovered any possible avenue of escape, for nothing but the promptings of a strong hope, whether real or delusive, could have produced such a change in his bearing.

”Better be burned up, than butchered by the redskins,” said he, at last.

Was this the explanation of his new-born courage? It was a terrible alternative, but f.a.n.n.y was forced to believe that what he said was true.

”Is there no escape for us?”

”Don'no; whar's the Injins now?”

”I don't hear them,” replied f.a.n.n.y.

”Nuther do I. We must stay here jest as long as we kin.”

”But the barn is on fire! If we are going to get out at all, we must do so at once.”

”Don't hurry. The fire's all out to t'other end o' the barn. It won't hurt us jest yit,” said Ethan, with wonderful coolness. ”I s'pose the Injins is in a hurry, and they won't stop no longer'n they want to.

Jest as soon as they move off we'll git out.”

”How shall we get out after the barn is all in a blaze?”

”That's easy enough. I ain't a bit afeered of the fire, but I am pesky skeered of the Injins.”

The confidence of Ethan increased the courage of f.a.n.n.y. She had more to dread from the Indians than he had, and if he preferred to die by the flames, she ought to be willing to share his fate. She commended her soul and that of her companion to G.o.d, and tried to be calm and resolute, and she succeeded to an extent which astonished herself.

The fire was rapidly leaping upward, and the barn was soon enveloped in flames. The Indians could not now be seen through the cracks, nor could their voices be heard, and the fire-besieged fugitives supposed they had gone to new fields of blood and rapine.

”We can't stand it much longer--kin we?” said Ethan, as they heard the crash of some falling timbers at the other end of the building.

”We are not burned yet, but I am nearly suffocated by the smoke,”

replied f.a.n.n.y. ”Do you suppose the Indians are gone?”

”I reckon they be; but they hain't gone fur yit,” added Ethan, as he applied his shoulder to one of the boards on the side of the barn.

”Let me help you,” said f.a.n.n.y.

”You ain't nothin' but a gal, and you can't do much,” replied Ethan.

He was a stout boy, and the board, only slightly nailed, gave way before the pressure he applied to it; but it required a great deal of labor to detach it from the timbers above and below. He had not begun this work a moment too soon, for the flames were sweeping over the surface of the mow, and the roof was falling in upon them. The barn was stored full of new hay, which, being partially green, did not burn very readily, especially the solid ma.s.ses of it. The heat was intense, and nothing but a greater peril without could have forced them to remain so long in the building.

The first board was removed, and then a second, leaving an opening wide enough for them to get out. They were about fifteen feet above the level of the ground, but there was no difficulty, even to f.a.n.n.y, in the descent, though some young ladies might have regarded this minor obstacle as one of some importance. Ethan thrust his head out at the aperture, and looked in every direction his position commanded a view of, in search of the Indians, but none of them were in sight.

”Be quick, Ethan, or the fire will be upon us,” said f.a.n.n.y, who began to feel the near approach of the flames above her.

”Where shall we go when we get out? We must understand matters a leetle grain aforehand.”

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