The triumph of the colored servant Dinah over the Comanche incendiary may be described as overwhelming in its way.

The redskin was caught at so great disadvantage, that he was hurled from the roof before he could check himself or make use of the knife he had snatched from his girdle.  Indeed, it was at the instant of striking his vicious blow that he went over the eaves.  This preserved his awkwardness of posture, and prevented his making any preparation for the violent fall.

The miscreant would have struck the ground with a “dull thud,” but for an unexpected buffer in the shape of one of his brother warriors, who happened to be standing directly under.  As a consequence, the sprawling figure came down on the head and shoulders of the astounded Comanche, who collapsed with a feeling that must have made him suspect the house had fallen on him.

The mishap saved the victim of Dinah’s wrath, but at a stunning cost to the under fellow, who lay for a minute or two as if dead, before he was able to regain his breath and climb to his feet.

In the meantime, the author of this catastrophe was wise enough to improve the moments.

“Dar!” she muttered, checking herself on the edge of the roof, “I reckons you know a blamed sight more dan you eber did afore, and arter dis, when you tries to steal into a ’spectable lady’s room, you’ll knock at de doah fust.”

It was not to be supposed that in the darkness the Comanches below would grasp the situation offhand, and, before they could do so, Dinah scurried over the peak of the roof to the scuttle, which of course was still open, and descended.  In her haste, she stepped upon the back of the chair, which tripped over, and she went down with a crash that shook the entire building.

Mrs. Shirril dashed into the room, in consternation.

“What in Heaven’s name is the matter, Dinah?”

“Nuffin’s de matter wid me, but I guess it am all day wid dat cheer, howsumeber.”

The captain hurried up the ladder, flung back the covering, and leaped into the apartment.

“Who’s killed?  What’s the trouble?” he gasped.

“Nuffin,” replied the servant, impatient with the continued questioning; “I’s been promenadin’ a little on de roof and de cheer flopped ober when I sot my foot on it.”

Everything being in darkness, the eyes of the party were useless.  The captain groped around to help Dinah to her feet, but she was already there, sound in limb and body.

“If you wants sumfin to do, capting,” said she, “jes’ fasten dat doah above yer head.”

“How came it open?” he asked, as he hastily complied, still unable to comprehend what had taken place.

“Habent I jes’ tole yer dat I’s been out on de roof?”

“I heard her there,” said the wife, “and was on my way to learn what it meant, when the crash came.”

In answer to the questions of the couple, Dinah soon made clear what had taken place.  Her employers were filled with admiration of her pluck, and wonder at its brilliant success.  That she had saved the dwelling from burning and averted a frightful death from them all was evident.  They praised her highly, though the captain insisted that she ought to have told him of her intention before climbing through upon the roof.

“Cotch me doin’ dat,” she chuckled, “when I knowed dat you would hab stopped me.  Dinah aint as big a fool as she looks.”

“No one certainly could have managed it with the skill shown by you.  I would have kept within the opening and shot the scamp.”

“And what would you hab done wid de fiah, eh?”

“Put it out in some way.”

“And got shot yourself!  Your fût isn’t as promisc’us as mine and it would hab tooken you longer; it wanted only one slap ob my shoe and de bus’ness war done.”

“Perhaps you were right,” said the captain with a laugh; “but I am afraid we are not through with those attempts; they came so near succeeding that they will soon try it again.”

“I don’t t’ink dat black rascal will try it wery soon, ’cause I gib him a shookin’ up dat he wont git ober for a week.”

“I have no doubt of that, but there are others just as venturesome as he, and they will try it.”

“Is not that the only source of danger?” asked the wife.

“It can hardly be said to be so, but it’s the chief source; I will stay here, and you, Edna, had better go below; the room is so well cleared of smoke that it will cause you little trouble.”

“And what is I gwine to do?” asked Dinah.

“You may accompany your mistress; if I find myself in need of you I will call.”

“I’s afeard you won’t t’ink yourself in need ob me, if some more ob dem scamps come pokin’ round de doah up dere.”

“Well, I will try to take care of them myself, but I give you my word if your help is needed it will be asked.”

This was the most that the servant could get from her master, and she had no choice but to do as directed.  Mrs. Shirril led the way down the ladder, followed by her servant, and they quickly found themselves on the lower floor.

Enough smoke remained in the room to cause Dinah another fit of sneezing, but the shattered window and the opening of the door at the head of the primitive stairs gave such good vent that a rapid improvement took place.

“I don’t see that there is much for us to do,” remarked the mistress, taking her place near the door, and out of range of either of the windows, “but they may try something of which we have no suspicion, and, if so, we shall have the chance to do better service here than above stairs.”

“Poserbly, but it doesn’t strike me dat way; seems to me dat fiah am ’ginning to flare up again.”

The smothering blanket by this time was so far consumed that the embers showed beneath, though with less strength than at first.  They diffused a slight illumination through the room, and enabled the two women to see each other’s figures dimly, as they moved silently about, alert, listening, and watchful.

The embers could have been extinguished by making use of the same means as before, but the certainty of a denser volume of strangling smoke, to say nothing of the loss of the valuable article, prevented any use of the remedy.

“Bress my soul, if dar isn’t anoder warmint!”

Dinah, rifle in hand, had stationed herself by the heavy door, against which she slightly leaned.  As she did so, she felt an almost insensible yielding on its part, as though a powerful pressure on the outside was being exerted to force it inward.

“How can you know that?” asked her mistress, stepping to her side.

“Jes put your hand right here and feel for yourself.”

The delicate hand of the lady was placed against the structure, and there could be no doubt that someone was pushing strongly against the other side.

“Yes,” said she in a low voice, “they are there, but they can do no harm, as long as they confine themselves to that.”

“S’pose dey butt dar heads agin it?”

“It will be worse for their heads than for the door, but I think your people are the only ones who work that way.”

“Dat’s ’cause we hab de hardest kind ob heads,” was the truthful response; “but mebbe dey’s usin’ somethin’ else to break in de door.”

“It can do no injury if they do,” replied Mrs. Shirril, who could not shake off a feeling of uneasiness because of the discovery.

While it was apparent that the door could not be forced by any conceivable means at the command of the Comanches, there was a doubt as to their precise intentions that troubled the good woman.  She had the proof that their relentless enemies were busy, and their well-known cunning was likely to suggest ways of reaching their end, which, for a time at least, must remain unsuspected by the defenders of the cabin.