ve
them into her own hand. These are our orders."

"And put down a ladder," said the other officer, "that he may ascend
with them."

"We put down no ladders," answered the man leaning over the wall. "We
will call our lady, but you must yourselves find an arm long enough to
lift your dispatches to her."

During this parley, the rush of men coming from the camp began to be
heard. The guards on the wall listened, and two of them promptly trained
the cannon in that direction.

"You have come to surprise us again," taunted the third guard, leaning
over the wall; "but the Swiss is not here now!"

The soldier saw his escape was cut off, and desperately casting back his
monk's hood, he shouted upwards,--

"La Tour! La Tour! Put down the ladder--it is Edelwald!"

XVII.

AN ACADIAN PASSOVER.

At that name, down came a ladder as if shot from a catapult. Edelwald
sprung up the rounds and both of D'Aulnay's officers seized him. He had
drawn one of his long pistols and he clubbed it on their heads so that
they staggered back. The sentinels and advancing men fired on him, but
by some muscular flash he was flat upon the top of the wall, and the
cannon sprung with a roar at his enemies. They were directly in its
track, and they took to the trench. Edelwald, dragging the ladder up
after him, laughed at the state in which they must find Father Vincent.
The entire garrison rushed to the walls, and D'Aulnay's camp stirred
with the rolling of drums. Then there was a pause, and each party
waited further aggression from the other. The fort's gun had spoken but
once. Perhaps some intelligence passed from trench to camp. Presently
the unsuccessful company ventured from their breastwork and moved away,
and both sides again had rest for the night.

Madame La Tour stood in the fort, watching the action of her garrison
outlined against the sky. She could no longer ascend the wall by her
private stairs. Cannon shot had torn down her chimney and piled its rock
in a barricade against the door. Sentinels were changed, and the
relieved soldiers descended from the wall and returned to that great
room of the tower which had been turned into a common camp. It seemed
under strange enchantment. There was a hole beside the portrait of
Claude La Tour, and through its tunnel starlight could be seen and the
night air breathed in. The carved buffet was shattered. The usual log,
however, burned in cheer, and families had reunited in distinct ne