and in ten minutes we must
have covered the mile to the now darkened village. The starlight alone
outlined against the sky the houses of it as we climbed the bank. Then
we halted, breathless, in a street, but there was no sound save that
of the crickets and the frogs. Forward again, and twisting a corner,
we beheld the indented edge of the stockade. Still no hail, nor had our
moccasined feet betrayed us as we sought the river side of the fort
and drew up before the big river gates of it. Simon Kenton bore against
them, and tried the little postern that was set there, but both were
fast. The spikes towered a dozen feet overhead.

"Quick!" muttered Clark, "a light man to go over and open the postern."

Before I guessed what was in his mind, Cowan seized me.

"Send the lad, Colonel," said he.

"Ay, ay," said Simon Kenton, hoarsely.

In a second Tom was on Kenton's shoulders, and they passed me up with
as little trouble as though I had been my own drum. Feverishly searching
with my foot for Tom's shoulder, I seized the spikes at the top,
clambered over them, paused, surveyed the empty area below me,
destitute even of a sentry, and then let myself down with the aid of the
cross-bars inside. As I was feeling vainly for the bolt of the postern,
rays of light suddenly shot my shadow against the door. And next, as
I got my hand on the bolt-head, I felt the weight of another on my
shoulder, and a voice behind me said in English:--

"In the devil's name!"

I gave the one frantic pull, the bolt slipped, and caught again. Then
Colonel Clark's voice rang out in the night:--

"Open the gate! Open the gate in the name of Virginia and the
Continental Congress!"

Before I could cry out the man gave a grunt, leaned his gun against the
gate, and tore my fingers from the bolt-handle. Astonishment robbed me
of breath as he threw open the postern.

"In the name of the Continental Congress," he cried, and seized his gun.
Clark and Kenton stepped in instantly, no doubt as astounded as I, and
had the man in their grasp.

"Who are you?" said Clark.

"Name o' Skene, from Pennsylvanya," said the man, "and by the Lord God
ye shall have the fort."

"You looked for us?" said Clark.

"Faith, never less," said the Pennsylvanian. "The one sentry is at the
main gate."

"And the governor?"

"Rocheblave?" said the Pennsylvanian. "He sleeps yonder in the old
Jesuit house in the middle."

Clark turned to Tom McChesney, who was at his e