rooning by the body of her
son, without having changed her position since morning.

"What is it, then? Are they coming on?" he asked.

"They are up to some devilry," said Du Lhut, peering out at the corner
of the embrasure. "They are gathering thickly at the east fringe, and
yet the firing comes from the south. It is not the Indian way to attack
across the open, and yet if they think help is coming from the fort they
might venture it."

"The wood in front of us is alive with them," said Amos. "They are as
busy as beavers among the underwood."

"Perhaps they are going to attack from this side, and cover the attack
by a fire from the flank."

"That is what I think," cried the seigneur. "Bring the spare guns up
here and all the men except five for each side."

The words were hardly out of his mouth when a shrill yell burst from the
wood, and in an instant a cloud of warriors dashed out and charged
across the open, howling, springing, and waving their guns or tomahawks
in the air. With their painted faces, smeared and striped with every
vivid colour, their streaming scalp-locks, their waving arms, their open
mouths, and their writhings and contortions, no more fiendish crew ever
burst into a sleeper's nightmare. Some of those in front bore canoes
between them, and as they reached the stockade they planted them against
it and swarmed up them as if they had been scaling-ladders. Others
fired through the embrasures and loop-holes, the muzzles of their
muskets touching those of the defenders, while others again sprang
unaided on to the tops of the palisades and jumped fearlessly down upon
the inner side. The Canadians, however, made such a resistance as might
be expected from men who knew that no mercy awaited them. They fired
whilst they had time to load, and then, clubbing their muskets, they
smashed furiously at every red head which showed above the rails. The
din within the stockade was infernal, the shouts and cries of the
French, the whooping of the savages, and the terrified screaming of the
frightened women blending into one dreadful uproar, above which could be
heard the high shrill voice of the old seigneur imploring his
_censitaires_ to stand fast. With his rapier in his hand, his hat lost,
his wig awry, and his dignity all thrown to the winds, the old nobleman
showed them that day how a soldier of Rocroy could carry himself, and
with Du Lhut, Amos, De Catinat and Ephraim Savage, was ever in the
fo