Now his heart throbbed again, and exultation was mingled with his
anger. By the time the Iroquois were aroused to the danger the
flames would be so high that the wind would reach them. Then no
one could put them out.
It might have been safer for him to flee deep into the forest at
once, but that lingering desire to make his task complete and,
also, the wish to see the result kept him from doing it. He
merely walked across the open space and stood behind a tree at
the edge of the forest.
Braxton Wyatt and his Tories and Iroquois were very warm, very
snug, in the shelter of the old house with the great bed of coals
before them. They may even have been dreaming peaceful and
beautiful dreams, when suddenly an Iroquois sprang to his feet
and uttered a cry that awoke all the rest.
"I smell smoke!" he exclaimed in his tongue, "and there is fire,
too! I hear it crackle outside!"
Braxton Wyatt ran to the window and jerked it open. Flame and
smoke blew in his face. He uttered an angry cry, and snatched at
the pistol in his belt.
"The whole side of the house is on fire!" he exclaimed. "Whose
neglect has done this?"
Coleman, shrewd and observing, was at his elbow.
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