m;
she ran into the blockhouse and climbed up a rude ladder-way; then she
appeared on the roof, still accompanied by Rene, and planted the staff
in a crack of the slabs, where it stood bravely up, the colors floating
free.

She looked down and saw M. Roussillon, Father Gibault and Father Beret
grouped in the centre of the area. They were waving their hands aloft
at her, while a bedlam of voices sent up applause which went through
her blood like strong wine. She smiled radiantly, and a sweet flush
glowed in her cheeks.

No one of all that wild crowd could ever forget the picture sketched so
boldly at that moment when, after planting the staff, Alice stepped
back a space and stood strong and beautiful against the soft blue sky.
She glanced down first, then looked up, her arms folded across her
bosom. It was a pose as unconsciously taken as that of a bird, and the
grace of it went straight to the hearts of those below.

She turned about to descend, and for the first time saw that Rene had
followed her. His face was beaming.

"What a girl you are!" he exclaimed, in a tone of exultant admiration.
"Never was there another like you!"

Alice walked quickly past him without speaking; for down in the space
where some women were huddled aside from the crowd, looking on, she had
seen little Adrienne Bourcier. She made haste to descend. Now that her
impulsively chosen enterprise was completed her boldness deserted her
and she slipped out through a dilapidated postern opposite the crowd.
On her right was the river, while southward before her lay a great flat
plain, beyond which rose some hillocks covered with forest. The sun
blazed between masses of slowly drifting clouds that trailed creeping
fantastic shadows across the marshy waste.

Alice walked along under cover of the slight landswell which then, more
plainly marked than it is now, formed the contour line of hummock upon
which the fort and village stood. A watery swale grown full of tall
aquatic weeds meandered parallel with the bluff, so to call it, and
there was a soft melancholy whispering of wind among the long blades
and stems. She passed the church and Father Beret's hut and continued
for some distance in the direction of that pretty knoll upon which the
cemetery is at present so tastefully kept. She felt shy now, as if to
run away and hide would be a great relief. Indeed, so relaxed were her
nerves that a slight movement in the grass and cat-tail flags near by
st