carried in his hand a smouldering firebrand. Now crouching against
the place from which the hottest fire belched forth, he blew upon
this brand till a tongue of flame darted forth, and in a moment
more the brushwood around the house had begun to crackle with a
sound like that made by a hissing snake before it makes the fatal
spring.

Five minutes later and the ring of flame round the doomed house was
complete. The firing suddenly ceased, and there was a sound of
blows and cries, turning to howls of fury as the inmates found that
the door would not yield--that they were trapped.

The Rangers, rushing up, seized burning brands and commenced
setting fire to house after house, whilst their comrades stood at a
short distance shooting down the Indians as they burst forth. A
scene of the wildest terror and confusion was now illumined by the
glare of the fire, and at short intervals came the sound of short,
sharp explosions, as the flames reached the charged guns of the
Indians or the kegs of gunpowder lavishly stored in their houses.

But Charles stood like a statue in the midst of the turmoil. His
face was white and terrible; his gun was in his hands. He did not
attempt to fire it, although Indians were scuttling past him like
hunted hares; he stood stern and passive, biding his time.

The ring of flame round the centre house rose higher and higher.
Cries and screams were heard issuing from within. Some intrepid
warrior was chanting his death song, dauntless to the last. A
frightened squaw was shrieking aloud; but not even the sound of a
woman's voice moved Charles from his fell purpose.