ination she saw the flag above him, saw
him die like a panther at bay, saw the gay rag snatched down and torn
to shreds by savage hands. It was the tragedy of a single moment,
enacted in a flashlight of anticipation.

She released Jean so suddenly that he fell to the floor. She remembered
what she had said to Beverley on the night of the dance when they were
standing under the flag.

"You made it and set it up," he lightly remarked; "you must see that no
enemy ever gets possession of it, especially the English."

"I'll take it down and hide it when there's danger of that," she said
in the same spirit.

And now she stood there looking at Jean, without seeing him, and
repeated the words under her breath.

"I'll take it down and hide it. They shan't have it."

Madame Roussillon began to call from the other room in a loud,
complaining voice; but Alice gave no heed to her querulous demands.

"Stay here, Jean, and take care of Mama Roussillon," she presently said
to the hunchback. "I am going out; I'll be back soon; don't you dare
leave the house while I'm gone; do you hear?"

She did not wait for his answer; but snatching a hood-like fur cap from
a peg on the wall, she put it on and hastily left the house.

Down at the fort Helm and Beverley were making ready to resist
Hamilton's attack, which they knew would not be long deferred. The two
heavily charged cannon were planted so as to cover the space in front
of the gate, and some loaded muskets were ranged near by ready for use.

"We'll give them one hell of a blast," growled the Captain, "before
they overpower us."

Beverley made no response in words; but he was preparing a bit of
tinder on the end of a stick with which to fire the cannon. Not far
away a little heap of logs was burning in the fort's area.

The British officer, already mentioned as at the head of the line
advancing diagonally from the river's bank, halted his men at a
distance of three hundred yards from the fort, and seemed to be taking
a deliberately careful survey of what was before him.

"Let 'em come a little nearer, Lieutenant," said Helm, his jaw setting
itself like a lion's. "When we shoot we want to hit."

He stooped and squinted along his gun.

"When they get to that weedy spot out yonder," he added, "just opposite
the little rise in the river bank, we'll turn loose on 'em."

Beverley had arranged his primitive match to suit his fancy, and for
probably the twentieth time looked cr