Ellis Edward Sylvester
Ned in the Block-House: A Tale of Early Days in the West

Jo Stinger was the only member of the garrison who appeared equal to the task, and more than one feared that to save the block-house he must assume a risk that was certain to prove fatal.

Ned Preston caught the arm of the man in the darkness and asked —

"Can't you put it out with a wet blanket?"

"Well, you're a boy that does know something!" exclaimed Jo, adding with a burst of admiration, "Give me your hand, younker; that's the very idee I had in mind."

This "idee," as the hunter termed it, was the ordinary one of spreading a blanket, soaked with water, over the spaces endangered by fire. Probably nothing more effective could have been devised, but it should have been adopted when the peril involved was much less. One-half of the entire roof was illuminated by the crackling blaze which was steadily eating its way into the solid timber.

Jo Stinger, having determined on his course, spent no time in useless conversation. Under his direction one of the blankets was saturated with water from the precious supply in the barrel. As it was necessary to see what they were doing, a tallow dip was lit and placed where it threw a faint illumination through the interior. The garrison could distinguish each other's figures, and no one needed any advice to keep out of the path of such bullets as might enter through the loopholes.

The scene was picturesque and striking. Mary and Susie still lay wrapped in slumber, and their closed eyes and innocent faces subdued every step and word, lest they should be awakened. Father and mother glanced fondly at them many times, and wondered how long that refreshing unconsciousness would continue.

By general agreement the entire party centered their attention on Jo Stinger, who, having soaked the blanket, made ready to throw it over the stubborn fire. The task of necessity was attended by such extreme peril that all held their peace, oppressed by the gravity of the danger. At the same time the crackling of the flames and the unmistakable presence of smoke in the room showed that, if the extinguishment was delayed much longer, the attempt would be too late.

Jo placed the chair directly under the trap-door on the eastern side of the block-house and was about to set foot on it, when Colonel Preston stepped forward.

"Jo, you've forgotten; the blaze is further over on the other side."

"That's the reason I'm going to take this side."

The Colonel stepped back, and the scout laid the dripping blanket upon one arm, as though it were an overcoat. Grasping the edge of the opening, and helped by Megill from below, he quickly climbed upward, opening the door at the proper moment by the pressure of his head against it.

It was not raised an inch more than necessary, when he slowly crept out, like a crab casting its shell.

The blaze which was the cause of all this alarm and care was started, as will be remembered, in the very peak of the roof, but from some cause it had worked its way down the western side, which was necessarily illuminated through its entirety by the light therefrom.

The shifting of the fire threw the eastern half of the roof in comparative shadow, though the flickering glow was quite certain to reveal the figure of any large object on it. The fact that Jo emerged with his dripping blanket without drawing a shot, led him to hope that his action was unsuspected.

In order to "play every point," Colonel Preston cautiously raised the trap-door on the other side a few inches, and, guarding his face and arm, extended the stock of his rifle toward the blaze, as if he expected to pound it out.

He advanced the weapon quite slowly and with a movement intended to impress the sharpshooters with the belief that he had perfected an arrangement by which he was able to reach the endangered point.

As he anticipated, this diversion drew several shots, which whistled about his head with a vigor that gave him a vivid idea of the vigilance of the besieging Wyandots.

While this counter-movement was in progress, Jo Stinger was carefully making his way along the roof on the other side. The unusual steepness made this difficult, and had he not grasped the peak and held on, he would have shot along the slope to the ground, as if sliding down the side of a tree.

Inch by inch he progressed, expecting every minute that a bullet would be fired at him. He kept the saturated blanket well rolled together and in front, so that it served the purpose of a shield against any shot from the cabin, where the sharpshooters seemed to have gathered for the purpose of keeping the roof clear of all persons.

Jo Stinger had nearly reached the point from which he expected to "ring down the curtain" on the flame, when he was confronted by an experience altogether novel and unexpected.

Inasmuch as the burning arrows had done such good service, one of the Wyandots on the edge of the woods launched another, which went high in the air and, curving gracefully over, plunged downward toward the roof.

Jo had no knowledge of its approach, until he heard the whizzing rush of the flaming shaft, as it drove its head against the wet blanket, glanced off and slid to the earth.

"It won't do to loaf 'round here," he muttered, "or I'll be crawling over the roof with a dozen blazing arrers, and if Jo Stinger knows hisself, he don't mean to play walkin' lantern for the Wyandot varmints."

He had attained the position he was seeking, and a most delicate piece of work was before him, but he was equal to it.

The Indians, who were gathered in the cabin, and collected at different points in the woods and along the stockade, watching the flame with no little exultation, saw it creeping downward and spreading with a rapidity which boded ill for the garrison huddled beneath.

The fine, silver-like snowflakes glistened in the fire-light, and floated shudderingly down the roof, without affecting the blaze; but at the moment when scores of eyes were gleaming like those of so many wild beasts, a dark shadow suddenly disclosed itself – what seemed an immense black hand spread out and closed over the dangerous fire, which was instantly extinguished.

CHAPTER XIX
THE TUG OF WAR

The extinguishment of the burning roof, for the time, was complete. Utter darkness came like the blowing out of a candle in a vault.

"The varmints know what it means!" muttered Jo Stinger, who made a hurried retreat along the roof toward the trap-door, which had been thrown wide open in readiness for his reception.

The Wyandots were quick to learn the cause of the sudden darkness, and they opened a brisk fire on the roof. This necessarily was at random, and the scout dropped through to the floor, without so much as a scratch upon him.

Colonel Preston and his friends would have felt like uttering a cheer over the success of Jo's boldness, but for the conviction that the worst was yet to come and was close at hand.

One fact was so apparent that it caused a strengthening of hope: the wind, which had been blowing almost a gale from the south, had fallen, so that the lull was perceptible. Should the Wyandots fire the cabin standing a short distance from the block-house, the flames were not likely to communicate unless the gale appeared again.

All was darkness once more. The wind soughed dismally through the trees and moaned around the block-house, which was scorched and still smoking from the burning arrows of the Wyandots. The fine snowflakes were still sifting downward, and far overhead was heard again the honk of wild geese flying to the milder regions of the south.

From within the settler's cabin standing near the stockade came a dull glow, but there was no other sign of life that eye could detect. And yet the block-house was environed by hostile red men, who were as eager as so many wolves to break into the fold.

Colonel Preston, Jo Stinger, Megill, Turner, and the boys were at the loopholes watching and listening. Mrs. Preston alternated from the side of her children to that of her husband, exchanging words with the brave man who had been so cramped in his movements for the last day or two that he was unable to do the service he wished to render his friends.

The sounds of hurrying feet, the hoarse guttural exclamations and the bird-like signals showed that the Wyandots were near the fort. They had taken advantage of the Egyptian darkness to steal up close to the sides of the building, where their presence could only be discovered through some movement that made a noise sufficient to reach the ears of the listeners above.

Several times the heavy log which they had dragged from the river bank was carried stealthily up to within a few feet of the building, when, having located the door, they ran forward with the battering ram. Delivering the blow they dropped the log and scampered to escape the shots which were sent after them in the darkness.

Now and then some of these bullets found their mark, and the assailants learned to their cost that it was not simple amusement on which they were engaged.

Believing they had made some impression on the door, eight Wyandots stole forward, lifted the tree-trunk from the ground, and stepped heavily and quietly backward several paces, where they paused to gather breath for the fierce rush.

At the very moment they had concentrated their strength and were in the act of moving, a flaming arrow sped upward like a rocket from the other side the clearing, and, curving over, went a short distance beyond the block-house, and, by a singular mischance, buried its head in the log, which was held above the ground and in the act of being plunged against the door.

The shaft stuck and the flaming twist of tow gave partial glimpses of the eight swarthy figures laboring toward the building with the timber between the two divisions. The knowledge that they were exposed to the aim of the Kentuckians, spread consternation among the Wyandots, who released the burden so suddenly that it fell upon one warrior's foot.

The pain was so acute that, like a civilized being, he caught the injured member in both hands and danced round and round on the other foot, howling with torture, while the others skurried away in the darkness, as though a bomb-shell had burst among them.

The crack of several well-aimed rifles hastened the steps of these frightened warriors, and he who was nursing his bruised foot dropped it and limped off, with a haste that would have been impossible under other circumstances.

This incident, which was not without its element of comedy, was followed by a still more singular one.

Despite the vigilance of the garrison, the Wyandots were constantly tempted to efforts which, it would seem, promised no success at all, and which exposed them to great danger from the rifles of the Kentuckians.

We have described the windows on the lower story of the block-house, which were without panes, long and so narrow that it was not deemed possible that any person could force his body through.

And yet there was one warrior who had probably spent most of the day in considering the matter, and who concluded there was a chance for him to succeed, where all others had failed.

A peculiar noise on the lower floor led Colonel Preston to descend the ladder to investigate. For some minutes he was unable to conjecture what the disturbance could mean, but the faint glow thrown out by the flaming arrow which drove its head into the log, showed that the window at the right of the front door was blocked up by an Indian, who was wedged fast, and unable to get in or out.

He was struggling desperately, but could not extricate himself, and the astounded commandant concluded that, if he was attenuated enough to enter that far, he was probably capable of going still further, and must be a curiosity in the way of bulk which was worth seeing.

The Colonel shuddered to think what would have been the result if this savage had secured an entrance. It would have taken him but a minute or two to remove the fastenings of the door, when the whole horde of ferocious red men would have swarmed in.

The officer immediately ran forward and, catching the two arms of the intruder, pinioned them. Then he began pulling with might and main. That he might not throw away any strength, he placed both feet against the logs below the window, and, leaning back, threw all his energy in the effort.

So great was the force exerted that in all likelihood he would have succeeded in drawing the exceedingly thin warrior through the window, had not a couple of friends, at the same moment, seized his legs, which were frantically beating vacancy, and commenced pulling with equal ardor in the opposite direction.

The Wyandot was now as anxious to retreat as he had been to advance, and he strove to help his friends; but his efforts were so handicapped that he gave them little if any assistance.

The arrow which had burned so brightly for a minute or two expired, so that all was darkness once more, and the singular tug of war went on.

When Colonel Preston held his breath, compressed his lips and did his utmost, he felt the Indian move forward several inches in response; but there were a couple fully as muscular, and inspired by as strong enthusiasm as the pioneer. The tug which they put forth brought the brave back again, with probably a slight gain.

The warriors at the heels had the additional advantage of the sympathies of the one over whom they were disputing, and who bid fair to become elongated to an alarming extent by this singular controversy. He kept twisting his hands in such a way that he broke the hold of Colonel Preston more than once, while he quieted his legs so as to favor his friends all he could.

The first flirt which the Indian made was so sudden and unexpected that the Colonel fell backwards on the floor; but he was up on the instant, and grappled the sinewy arms again.

"If this keeps on much longer," thought the officer, "something must give way. Suppose we should pull the rascal in two, with half inside and half out. That might be fair to us, but the Indian, considered strictly as an Indian, would not be of much account. I wonder whether – "

"Hello, Colonel, what's going on?"

Jo Stinger had heard the singular disturbance, and, unable to guess its meaning, was hurrying down the ladder to inform himself.

The exquisite absurdity of the situation caused a momentary reaction from the gloom which had oppressed Colonel Preston, and led him to reply —

"I've got a red man here that we're using as a cross-cut saw, and we've stretched him out to almost double – "

At that instant the individual referred to, knowing that all depended on one supreme effort, wrenched his wrists loose and, like a flash, struck the Colonel such a blow in the face that he reeled backwards almost to the other side the room.

The Wyandots at the other end of the line were reinforced at the critical juncture by two others, who caught hold of their man wherever it was the most convenient, and the four gave a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether, that was sure to accomplish something definite.

Fortunately for the elongated Indian his legs were equal to the strain, and he shot backward through the opening like the lady in the show, who is fired from the giant cannon by the aid of springs alone. He and his friends rolled over in one promiscuous heap, but were quickly on their feet and skurried away in a twinkling.

Jo Stinger scarcely credited the singular story when the Colonel related it, but when the particulars were given, he could not refuse to believe.

"You could have ended it, Colonel, when you had his head inside," said the scout.

"I know that, but I did not like the thought of taking such a frightful disadvantage of an enemy."

"Then you ought to have done it without thinking," muttered Jo, who was beginning to feel less mercy toward the Wyandots, since they had made their own furious hatred so manifest.

"If there's any likelihood of that varmint trying the thing over again, I'd stay here; but a chap who goes through, or tries to go through what he did, is apt to get enough."

"I am sure of that," assented Colonel Preston, who was still rubbing his face where the vigorous blow had fallen upon it.

There was no occasion to remain below-stairs, and the two went up the ladder, where a consultation was held as to what was best to do, if indeed they could do anything in their perilous situation.

Midnight had passed, and a hope was gaining ground that, if they could hold out until morning, the prospect of beating off the Wyandots would be improved. The American Indian seems incapable of doing his best work except in darkness, and another night of such utter gloom as the present was not likely to come.

It was not known, of course, that Deerfoot had escaped from his enemies, and the belief was general that his career had been brought to an untimely end; but, as we have shown, the young Shawanoe, with all his fleetness, could not bring reinforcements from Wild Oaks before the succeeding night, and it would have been a great feat could he accomplish it in that limited time.

The garrison had enough food to last them a week, and the supply of water was sufficient for the same time, unless too many draughts should be required by the work of the torch and burning arrows.

A continuous assault upon the door and the frequent firing into the loopholes and windows promised something, but the danger and delay which attended such work were too great for the red men, who knew the value of time as well as did the settlers themselves.

All within noted the direction and strength of the wind with an anxiety which cannot be described. The space separating the block-house and the cabin was so small that a slight gale from the right quarter was certain to carry the flames from one to the other. Both parties therefore were watching the indications with an equal intensity of interest.

Once the wind was just right, but a lull came, as the torch was about to be applied, and Waughtauk, after recovering from the terror caused by the appearance of the scout at the window, must have felt a grim impatience, as he saw the hours steadily slipping away, with no marked change in the situation.

But the fiery arrows had done excellently well, although at the critical moment a wet blanket, in the full sense of the word, was thrown upon the prospects of the assailants. Waughtauk and his sharpshooters knew how cleverly they had been outwitted, and they were sure the strategy could not succeed a second time.

The orders were therefore given to try the blazing missiles again, and in a few minutes a converging fire was opened, which looked as if a miniature bombardment had begun.

The pyrotechnic display, under the peculiar circumstances, was singularly striking.

By and by the missiles found a lodgment on the roof of the block-house, and the twists of flame once more lit up the rough surface, scorched and blackened in many places, and on which the flakes, instead of sliding off, as aforetime, seemed to stick with an unusual persistency.

There were broad patches of snow over the greater portion, and although some of the arrows held, yet the major number fell over, after striking and flickering a few minutes, and went out. The flakes which had collected now helped blot out the flames.

The cause of these changed conditions was due to a number of saturated blankets that had been carefully spread over the roof. During the darkness which followed Jo Stinger's exploit, and after Colonel Preston's failure to win in his tug of war with the Wyandot, the garrison had wisely improved the time by soaking quilts with water and laying them over the most ignitable portion of the roof.

Men and boys had given up those appropriated to their use; indeed all had been taken, except those which protected the little girls while sleeping. The mother offered those, if needed, willing to enfold and warm her little ones with her own loving arms, and such few extra garments as could be gathered among the company; but the scout declined, saying he had all he could use. At the same time he would have given anything in his possession for enough material to plaster the entire surface.

Favored by the sheltering darkness, Jo then stretched these coverings over the slabs. He fastened them together and balanced them over the ridge, so there was no possibility of their slipping off.

This was done with such care that no space was lost. The temperature was so low that in a few minutes the blankets were stiff with frost, and, although the hunter was toughened by many years' exposure, his hands became so benumbed he could hardly use them.

It was these frosty blankets which caught the snow and held it, and which rendered useless so many of the burning shafts discharged by the Wyandots.

But there were spaces where the seasoned wood was exposed. Several of the blazing missiles, as might have been expected, lodged there and began burning their way into the timber.

Furthermore, as these flames lit up the gloom, the Wyandots, eagerly looking upon the scene from every point of the compass, saw a sight which must have amazed them: it was the figure of a man stretched out at full length on the roof, holding on with one hand, while the other seemed to be occupied in giving the finishing touches to the saturated goods, which, so far as they went, were an effective shield against the fire.

Was ever such reckless daring known? It looked as if the scout Jo Stinger deliberately invited this manner of his taking off, in preference to torture by flame, or at the hands of his dusky enemies.

If such were the fact, the Wyandots did not restrain their fire. Every one who commanded the position immediately opened upon the poor fellow, and the sharpshooters in the cabin near at hand discharged their pieces with unerring accuracy.

Bullet after bullet struck the figure which, as it lay at full length, was a fair target for the many rifles. Still he held on and made no effort to lift the trap-door and drop beyond range of the deadly sleet hurtling about him.

But there is a limit to the capacity of the strongest, and all at once the hold was loosened. He seemed to catch vainly at the steep roof, over which he began slipping; but there was nothing which he could grasp that would stay his downward flight. Faster and faster he went, until he shot over the eaves, and, striking the ground, collapsed in a limp heap in which there was not a particle of life.

The Wyandots, with whoops of delight, dashed forward from the darkness, each eager to be the first to scalp the man whom they well knew, and regarded as the most formidable member of the garrison.

Forgetful of the risk they ran (for the spot where the inanimate figure fell was revealed by the burning arrows), the warriors scrambled with each other as to who should secure the coveted trophy.

Scarcely a full minute had passed when cries of rage and chagrin were heard from the disappointed group: for that which they seized and struck at was not a man at all, but a dummy cunningly put together, and placed in such a position on the top of the block-house that not a Wyandot who fired at it had the slightest suspicion that he was throwing his ammunition away.