es occur in
a battle. The fire of the Americans ceasing, that of their enemies ceased
for the moment also. But the pause was more deadly and menacing in its
stillness than all the thunder and shouting of the combat had been. It
seemed unnatural to hear again the sighing of the wind through the forest
and the quiet lap of water against the shore. The bank of smoke, no longer
increased from below, lifted, thinned, broke up into patches, and began to
float away. The moon's rays shot through the mists and vapors once more,
and lighted up the watery battlefield of the night, the schooner, the
desperate men on it, the swarms of canoes, the coppery, high-cheeked faces
of the Indians, the supply fleet packed now in a rather close mass, the
tanned faces of the men on board it, animated by the high spirit of daring
and enterprise, the wounded lying silent in the boats, and the wreckage
floating on the bayou.

But the stillness endured for only a few moments. It was broken by the
American fleet, which seemed to draw itself together into closer and more
compact form. An order in a low tone, but sharp and precise, was carried
from boat to boat, and it seemed to strengthen the men anew, heart and
body. They straightened up, signs of exhaustion passed from their faces,
and every one made ready all the arms that he had.

Paul, like the others, had felt the sudden silence, but perhaps most
acutely of all. His whole imaginative temperament was on fire. He knew--he
would have known, even had he not heard--that the sudden cessation of the
firing was merely preliminary, a fresh drawing of the breath as it were
for another and supreme effort. He clasped his hands to his temples, where
the pulses were beating rapidly and heavily, and his face burned as if in
a fever. But it was a fever of the mind not of the body.

"It's a big battle, Paul," said Shif'less Sol, who had come with Tom Ross
into their boat, "but it's wuth it. The arms and other things that we
carry in these boats may be wuth millions an' millions to the people who
come after us."

"Do you think we'll ever break through, Sol?" asked Paul.

"Shorely," replied the shiftless one. "Henry's got the plan, and we're
goin' to cut through like a wedge druv through a log. Something's got to
give. Up, Paul, with your gun! Here she goes ag'in!"

The battle suddenly burst forth afresh and with greater violence. All the
American twelve pounders were now in a row at the head of the fleet,