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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
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