Captain Shirril was never so outwitted in all his life. With never a suspicion that the Comanche, dashing over the roof, had any other purpose than to him, he was holding his revolver , reflecting at the same time on the blind of the red man in rushing to his fate, when he dropped through the and closed it after him.  
With a muttered of the Texan leaped to his feet, reaching the spot in a couple of bounds, and let fly with two of his weapon. The bullets skimmed over the door, the inimitable of the Indian saving him as by a hair’s breadth.
 
Thus the fellow had entered the cabin after all, by a piece of strategy as brilliant as it was daring, and the only man who was a of the place found himself shut out and a prisoner, as may be said, on the roof.
 
 
to believe the of facts, the captain stooped down and tried to lift the door; but it had been placed there with the view of being raised only from below. It was impossible to get anything but the slightest hold upon it, and when he tried to lift it upward, it could not be moved.
 
The Comanche was either holding it, or had fastened it in place by means of the iron hook.
 
Thinking only of the safety of his wife and servant, the Texan over, and, putting his mouth as close to the edge as he could, shouted:
 
“Look out down there, Edna! There’s an Indian on the upper floor, and I am fastened on the roof.”
 
Provided his wife heard the warning, this particular Comanche was liable, after all, to find that, in his contract, he would be unable to deliver the goods. But, if the warning reached the ears of the women, would they comprehend its significance? That was the question which must soon be answered.
 
 
The meaning of the strategy of the Comanches was now understood by the victim. With a beyond description, he comprehended how he had fallen into the trap that had been set so cunningly for his feet.
 
All this at one corner of the roof was intended to hold his attention, while one of the stealthily climbed over the eaves at another portion and reached the inside by dropping through the scuttle.
 
The plan, simple as it might seem, had worked to perfection.
 
The moment the captain comprehended that he was shut out as effectually as the was shut in, he glared around in quest of others who might be trying to work his own death by a continuation of their cunning. Aware, too, of his exposure to their shots, he quickly sank on his face, with his head nigh enough to the peak to hold the entire surface under his eye.
 
It was well he did so; for from the same corner that the successful Indian had come, he discerned a second climbing over the eaves. He was doing so with an eagerness that showed he was discounting his own chances.
 
“Whether you are bogus or not, here goes!”
 
The Texan did not rely upon his revolver to serve him in the crisis, but hastily aiming his Winchester, pulled the trigger.
 
The Comanche, whose body was half over the roof, threw up his arms with a wild and disappeared backward, as as his companion had gone down the scuttle. There could be no doubt of the success of that shot.
 
“I would like to have a few more of you try it,” muttered the defender, compressing his lips and glancing right and left. His blood was up and he was in a desperate mood.
 
But his own situation was one of extreme . The Comanches must be aware of his singular , and were not likely to leave him undisputed master of the situation, at least as long as he remained on the outside.
 
That this supposition was right was proven the next minute, when, from a point ............