d every moment by a new group. Then Menard saw their object.
They would soon be near enough to dash in close to the wall, where
their very nearness would disable the white men's muskets.

"Work fast!" he said suddenly. "They must not get nearer!"

"Yes," panted the maid. Her shoulder was bruised by the heavy musket,
her arms ached with the quick ramming and lifting, but she loaded and
fired as rapidly as she could.

"Father," called the Captain. "Quick! come here. They are too many for
me!"

The priest ran across the floor, half blinded by the smoke, cocking
his musket as he came. "Where, M'sieu?"

"There--at the oak! They are preparing for a rush!"

He fired, at the last word, and one warrior sprawled on his face. The
priest followed.

"That will check them. Now back to the door!"

Father Claude turned. The light was dim and the smoke heavy. His eyes
smarted and blurred, so that he heard, rather than saw, the logs come
crashing back into the hut. Menard heard it also; and together the two
men dashed forward. They met the rush of Indians with blows that could
not be stayed, but there was a score pushing behind the few who had
entered. Slowly, the two backed across the hut. The stock of Menard's
musket broke short off against the head of the Beaver. His foot struck
another, and he snatched it up and fought on.

"Mademoiselle," he called, "where are you?"

"Here, M'sieu!"

The voice was behind him. Then he felt a weight on his shoulder. The
wearied maid, for want of another rest for her musket, fired past his
face straight into the dark mass of Indians. She tried to reload, but
Menard was swept back against her. With one arm he caught and held her
tight against him, swinging the musket with his free hand. She clung
to him, hardly breathing. They reached the rear wall. One tall warrior
bounded forward and struck the musket from his hand. That was the end
of the struggle. They were torn apart, and dragged roughly out into
the blinding sunlight.

Among the Iroquois, the torture was a religious rite, which nothing,
once it was begun, could hasten. It may have been that the younger
warriors would have rushed upon the captives to kill them; but if so,
their elders held them back. The long lines formed again, and the
doctors ran about the little group before the hut door, leaping and
singing. Menard lay on his face, held down by three warriors. He tried
to turn his head to see what had been done with the maid, but