. ... Ned in the block-house, a tale of early days in the west . hope left for a single one ofthe inmates. Jo had heard enough, and his wish now was toget back to his friends with the least possibledelay, that they might make preparation againstthe assault that could not be postponed muchlonger. Knowing the superstition of the AmericanIndian, the scout now resorted to an artifice asdaring as it was startling. Although a mantrained in border-warfare, accustomed to thefrightful cruelties of the aborigines, and knowingthe fierce purposes of the Wyandots surroundingFort Bridgman, he could not brin
. ... Ned in the block-house, a tale of early days in the west . hope left for a single one ofthe inmates. Jo had heard enough, and his wish now was toget back to his friends with the least possibledelay, that they might make preparation againstthe assault that could not be postponed muchlonger. Knowing the superstition of the AmericanIndian, the scout now resorted to an artifice asdaring as it was startling. Although a mantrained in border-warfare, accustomed to thefrightful cruelties of the aborigines, and knowingthe fierce purposes of the Wyandots surroundingFort Bridgman, he could not bring himself to thepoint of deliberately shooting down one or moreof the conspirators, who, in point of fact, were athis mercy. Many a brave hunter or pioneer, placed in hissituation, would have seized the opportunity toshoot the chieftain himself while sitting in thecabin, unsuspicious of his danger; but Jo Stingerwas not of such a disposition. Kaising his long rifle to his shoulder, he pointedit straight at Waughtauk, and then advanced 33 - ^- H s O M , \ .. THE NEW YORK PIBLIC LIBRARY ASTOB, LENOX ANDTILDBN FOUNDATIONSR L OUT-DOOKS ON A DARK NIGHT. 241 until the muzzle was thrust through the window^while he himself stood no more than a foot out-side. At that instant one of the warriors readieddown and stirred the blazing sticks of wood burn-ing on the hearth. The flames leaped higher,filling the room with a warm ruddy glow. Aslight noise caused the three Wyandots to turntheir heads toward the open window, when theysaw a sight which held them spell-bound. A tall spare man, in the garb of a hunter, stoodwith his deadly rifle pointed straight at them, andthe muzzle was not twelve feet distant from thehead of Waughtauk the chief. Looking along the barrel, pointing like thefinger of fate at the Wyandot leader, the bonyfingers of the left hand were seen grasping thedark iron, while the right hand, crooked at theelbow, encompassed the trigger-guard, and theforefinger was gently pr
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