ugh men to eat you all up for breakfast. You'd better be
reasonable and prudent. It's not bravery to court massacre."

Hamilton turned away without a word and sent the message; but Helm saw
that he was excited, and could be still further wrought up.

"You are playing into the hands of your bitterest enemies, the
frog-eaters," he went on. "These creoles, over whom you've held a hot
poker all winter, are crazy to be turned loose upon you; and you know
that they've got good cause to feel like giving you the extreme
penalty. They'll give it to you without a flinch if they get the
chance. You've done enough."

Hamilton whirled about and glared ferociously.

"Helm, what do you mean?" he demanded in a voice as hollow as it was
full of desperate passion.

The genial Captain laughed, as if he had heard a good joke.

"You won't catch any fish if you swear, and you look blasphemous," he
said with the lightness of humor characteristic of him at all times.
"You'd better say a prayer or two. Just reflect a moment upon the awful
sins you have committed and--"

A crash of coalescing volleys from every direction broke off his
levity. Clark was sending his response to Hamilton's lofty note. The
guns of freedom rang out a prophecy of triumph, and the hissing bullets
clucked sharply as they entered the solid logs of the walls or whisked
through an aperture and bowled over a man. The British musketeers
returned the fire as best they could, with a courage and a stubborn
coolness which Helm openly admired, although he could not hide his
satisfaction whenever one of them was disabled.

"Lamothe and his men are refusing to obey orders," said Farnsworth a
little later, hastily approaching Hamilton, his face flushed and a
gleam of hot anger in his eyes. "They're in a nasty mood; I can do
nothing with them; they have not fired a shot."

"Mutiny?" Hamilton demanded.

"Not just that. They say they do not wish to fire on their kinsmen and
friends. They are all French, you know, and they see their cousins,
brothers, uncles and old acquaintances out there in Clark's rabble. I
can do nothing with them."

"Shoot the scoundrels, then!"

"It will be a toss up which of us will come out on top if we try that.
Besides, if we begin a fight inside, the Americans will make short work
of us."

"Well, what in hell are we to do, then?"

"Oh, fight, that's all," said Farnsworth apathetically turning to a
small loop-hole and leveling a field glass t