pioneer standing erect, holding a pistol in his
right hand (which he pointed at the cotton that connected with a train
of powder running along a short plank to the reed that reached the
buried keg,) while the moon, now midway in the heavens, "and
beautifully bright," revealed the stern and determined expression of
pale brow and fixed lip. Thus he stood many minutes, and they seemed
hours to those who gazed upon the breathless scene from the house. Not
a sound was heard, save the rapid ticking of tomahawks under the snow
outside of the inclosure, or the occasional hasty remark of those who
were looking on in painful and thrilling suspense. Once Boone bowed
his head and listened an instant to the operations of the savages, and
when he rose erect again, the party looking on confidently expected he
would fire the train. But the fatal moment had not yet arrived. Still
he pointed the pistol at the combustible matter, and his eye glanced
along the barrel; but he maintained a statue-like stillness, as if
awaiting some preconcerted signal.

"Why don't he fire?" inquired Glenn, in a whisper.

"It is not quite time yet," responded Roughgrove.

"Dod! they'll crawl up presently, and jump over the fence," said
Sneak.

"Oh, goodness! I wish he'd shoot!" said Joe, in low, sepulchral tones,
his head thrust between Sneak's legs, whither he had crawled
unobserved, and was now peering out at the scene.

"Who are you?" exclaimed Sneak, leaping away from Joe's bandaged head,
which he did not recognize at the first glance.

"It's nobody but me," said Joe, turning his face upward, that his
friend might not suppose him an enemy.

"Well, what are you doing here? I thought you was a dying."

"I'm a good deal better, but I'm too weak to do any thing yet," said
Joe, in piteous tones, as he looked fearfully at Boone, and listened
to the strokes of the Indians without, which became louder and louder.

"Stand back a little," said Boone to those in the door-way, "that I
may enter when I fire--the match may burn more briskly than I
anticipated."

A passage was opened for him to enter. He pulled the trigger--the
pistol missed fire--he deliberately poured in fresh priming from his
horn, and once more taking aim, the pistol was discharged, and,
running to the house, and entering a little beyond the threshold, he
paused, and turned to behold the realization of his hopes. The light
combustible matter flashed up brightly, and the blaze ran along