among the buildings and orchards
of the French farmers, and many a red-coated soldier fell beneath the
fire of a foe whom he could neither see nor reach.

Pontiac had been warned at last of this new danger, and had sent his
trusty Ottawas, leaping like deer, down the river banks with a faint
hope that the approaching convoy might still be cut off. But they were
too late, and though their fire was very destructive while it lasted,
the boats pressed steadily on and in a few minutes more had gained the
shelter of the fort.

The newly arrived detachment--three hundred strong--was composed of
troops from the 50th and 80th regiments of the line, and twenty of
Rogers' hardy rangers. As boat after boat swept up to the strand and
landed its men they were received with wild cheers, frantic embraces,
and every manifestation of overwhelming joy. The new-comers, sturdy,
well-fed, and perfectly equipped, presented a striking contrast to the
gaunt, hollow-cheeked troops clad in tatters, who had held the fort so
long and so bravely. As the former moved steadily up the narrow street
in a long line of glittering scarlet, while drum and fife waked cheery
echoes from the silent houses, the latter felt that the day of their
deliverance had indeed come, and well repaid for all their toil.

Dalzell's boats brought many things besides men, guns, and ammunition.
It brought provisions, letters, and news from the great far-away world.
It brought a confirmation of the treaty, recently signed between
England and France, which set at rest all fears that Pontiac might
receive French aid in his present struggle. It also brought a number
of dainties for the officers' mess, such as had been unknown to its
table for many months. So Gladwyn gave a dinner that night to which
every officer in the fort was bidden.

When the appointed time arrived and Majors Gladwyn and Rogers; Captains
Dalzell, Grant, and Gray; Lieutenants Cuyler, Hay, and Brown, and half
a dozen more, all in speckless uniforms, were assembled about the
homely but well-laden mess-table, there entered still another at whom
the newcomers gazed in surprise but without recognition. He was a
little man dressed in the costume of the backwoods, a belted buckskin
shirt, leggings, and moccasins, and a coonskin cap. He hesitated, as
though from shyness, as he glanced irresolutely about him. Then
Gladwyn, stepping quickly forward, took him by the hand, exclaiming:--

"You are just in time