It was the sound of flames eating rapidly into wood,
and of that wood was built the house they now held. Even as they
listened they could hear the flames leap and roar into new and
larger life.
"This is, what those two, Ross and Hart, were up to!" exclaimed
Wyatt. "We're not only trapped, but we're to be burned alive in
our trap!"
"Not I," said Coleman, "I'm goin' to make a rush for it."
"It's the only thing to be done," said Wyatt. "Come, all of you
that are left!"
The scanty survivors gathered around him, all but the wounded
Seneca, who sat unmoved against the wall and continued to chant
his death chant. Wyatt glanced at him, but said nothing. Then
he and the others rushed down the stairs.
The lower room was filled with smoke, and outside the flames were
roaring. They unbarred the door and sprang into the open air. A
shower of bullets met them. The Tory, Coleman, uttered a choking
cry, threw up his arms, and fell back in the doorway. Braxton
Wyatt seized one of the smaller men, and, holding him a moment or
two before him to receive the fire of his foe, dashed for the
corner of the blazing building. The man whom he held was slain,
and his own shoulder was grazed twice, but he made the corner.
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