ing at certain points in the fort. These he completed just in
time for the coming of Clark.

CHAPTER XIX

THE ATTACK

It has already been mentioned that Indians, arriving singly or in
squads, to report at Hamilton's headquarters, were in the habit of
firing their guns before entering the town or the fort, not only as a
signal of their approach, but in order to rid their weapons of their
charges preliminary to cleaning them before setting out upon another
scalp-hunting expedition. A shot, therefore, or even a volley, heard on
the outskirts of the village, was not a noticeable incident in the
daily and nightly experience of the garrison. Still, for some reason,
Governor Hamilton started violently when, just after nightfall, five or
six rifles cracked sharply a short distance from the stockade.

He and Helm with two other officers were in the midst of a game of
cards, while a kettle, swinging on a crane in the ample fire-place,
sang a shrill promise of hot apple-jack toddy.

"By Jove!" exclaimed Farnsworth, who, although not in the game, was
amusing himself with looking on; "you jump like a fine lady! I almost
fancied I heard a bullet hit you."

"You may all jump while you can," remarked Helm. "That's Clark, and
your time's short--He'll have this fort tumbling on your heads before
daylight of to-morrow morning comes."

As he spoke he arose from his seat at the card table and went to look
after the toddy, which, as an expert, he had under supervision.

Hamilton frowned. The mention of Clark was disturbing. Ever since the
strange disappearance of Lieutenant Barlow he had nursed the fear that
possibly Clark's scouts had captured him and that the American forces
might be much nearer than Kaskaskia. Besides, his nerves were unruly,
as they had been ever since the encounter with Father Beret; and his
vision persisted in turning back upon the accusing cold face of Alice,
lying in the moonlight. One little detail of that scene almost maddened
him at times; it was a sheeny, crinkled wisp of warm looking hair
looped across the cheek in which he had often seen a saucy dimple dance
when Alice spoke or smiled. He was bad enough, but not wholly bad, and
the thought of having darkened those merry eyes and stilled those sweet
dimples tore through him with a cold, rasping pang.

"Just as soon as this toddy is properly mixed and tempered," said Helm,
with a magnetic jocosity beaming from his genial face, "I'm going to
pro