han ever!"

Then with another quick nod of thanks and of understanding off went the
young commander again to her post on the look-out, and then back to the
blockhouse, where she said words of ringing encouragement to the weary
band huddled there together, and it was twenty-four hours later before
she went into her father's house either for refreshment or rest,
although sadly in need of both, but was always on guard to cheer her
discouraged flock.

When forty-eight hours had passed in this way, rest became imperative
even for Madeleine's strong, young frame, and she allowed herself to
doze at a table, folding her arms on it, so that with her gun lying
across her arms and her head on her gun she was ready at a word of alarm
to spring up, weapon in hand, and face the enemy. It was a terrible
situation, that of the little band within the fort, for they knew of no
way to send word to friends of their plight, and if the outer world had
no news of the situation, from whence could help come? This thought was
constantly in the minds of the exhausted band, waiting, watching and
hoping against hope for some one to come to their rescue. Had they but
known that even while they were waiting, some of the farmers who when at
work in the field had escaped the Indians, were now making their way to
Montreal, their anxiety would have been greatly lessened, but they did
not know, and the fort was constantly attacked by the enemy, who when
not besieging it were crouching near, waiting for a chance to make a
successful attack. Very early on the dawn of the seventh day of their
vigil, Madeleine's younger brother, who was on watch on the side of the
fort which faced the river, heard the sound of distant voices and the
splashing of oars in the water.

"Who goes there?" he called out bravely, but with a shivering fear that
it might be additional forces of the enemy. At the sound of his cry
Madeleine, dozing by the table, roused and ran to his side with a
question on her lips which did not need to be framed.

"A voice from the river," he whispered, but as he spoke came the louder
sound of near-by footsteps and voices, and fleet-footed Madeleine ran to
the bastion to see whether it was friend or foe arriving.

"Who are you?" the clear voice of the intrepid young commander rang out,
and instantly came the answer:

"We are Frenchmen. It is La Monnerie, who comes to bring you help, and
with him are forty men."

Relief was at hand! Turning, Mad