“What!” exclaimed Joseph and Robert together.
“War whoop,” repeated Deerfoot. “Black Hawk kill Scotts.”
“Are you sure?” demanded Joseph. “Are you sure you hear war whoops?”
“This is terrible!” cried Joseph. “It seems as if we ought to have warned them. What shall we do?”
“How could we have warned them?” demanded Robert. “We’d have been killed ourselves if we had tried to get here any sooner.”
The first faint streaks of dawn were now lighting up the sky. Little by little objects began to be distinguishable and as Joseph turned to Deerfoot for an answer to his question, the Indian pointed to something he saw in the distance. Both boys instantly gazed in the direction he indicated.
“What is it?” demanded Joseph in a low voice.
“Sure enough,” cried Robert. “I see it. They are burning the Scotts’ house just as they burned ours. They’re probably all dead by now.”
Deerfoot was evidently uneasy. He shifted from one foot to the other and glanced about him as if he was undecided what to do next. The three fugitives simply stood and gazed at the distant column of smoke.
“You can smell the smoke now,” exclaimed Robert suddenly.
“Yes,” agreed Joseph. “The wind is coming this way.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Joseph.
“Do you think the prairie will catch on fire?” demanded Joseph in alarm. “Do you think it is dry enough?”
The two young pioneers gazed anxiously across the level plain to the place where the fire was raging. They knew the horrors of a prairie fire and they had no desire to be caught in the midst of one.
“We’d better leave here as fast as we can then, hadn’t we?” exclaimed Joseph, now fully alarmed. As he spoke they could see the fire suddenly spring up all about the former home of the Scotts. Fanned by the ever freshening breeze it made its way swiftly along the ground and gathering power as it ran, leaped into flame and started on its mad career.
“Come,” said Deerfoot, and he turned about and ran. The smell of smoke was now strong in their nostrils and this new foe, much more deadly than the former ones, inspired the fugitives with a fear that seemed almost to put wings on their feet. A deer suddenly passed them, wide-eyed and snorting with fright; close behind it sped two gray wolves, the fact that the deer was their quarry apparently being forgotten in the fear of a common peril.