"A thing like this," cried Captain Rudstone, "is enough to turn a man into a fiend. By Heaven! Hawke, if you say the word, I'll lead a party out against the savages!"

But the factor did not seem to hear him. He was leaning heavily on a chair, his face the hue of ashes. "My fault—my fault!" he said hoarsely. "I sent the poor fellows to their death. But God knows I believed they would get through safely!"

"We all believed that," broke in Andrew Menzies.

"Compose yourself, sir! No blame can possibly attach to you."

Meanwhile Baptiste had been standing in the same attitude. I sharply bade him close the door, and he did so. Then he stepped forward, tossed the reeking scalps on the table, and with a shaking hand helped himself, unbidden, to a stiff glass of rum.

"You need not have brought those hideous things here," said I.

"I did not come for that alone, Monsieur Carew," he replied. "I was sent with a message. The Indians intend shortly to attack. It will be well to prepare."

"We are all ready," exclaimed Griffith Hawke, roused from his dejection by this intelligence. "But what do you mean, my man? Why do the sentries look for an attack?"

"Sir, the Indians have been making strange signals," Baptiste answered, "and they were seen from the loopholes and the tower creeping along the edge of the timber in force."

"The warning is timely," said Captain Rudstone. "If the savages are prowling about it means mischief, otherwise they would be rigging up a camp against this bitter weather. And no doubt they reckon the storm will be to their advantage, since the driving snow thickens the air."

The rest of us were of the same mind, and to a man we thirsted for a chance to avenge the foul murder of the two voyageurs. We eagerly donned our fur coats and caps, and began to examine our weapons.

"Mr. Menzies, will you speak to the women before you go," said the factor. "Tell them not to be alarmed if they hear firing—that there is no danger."

"And perhaps they will take consolation from your company, Father Cleary," he added, when Menzies had left the room.

The priest was wrapping himself in furs, and before replying he took his musket from a rack over the fireplace.

"If the women folk need me, I will not refuse," he said quietly. "I am a man of peace first, but I can fight when occasion requires, and my choice lies that way now, Mr. Hawke."

"Then come with us, by all means," assented the factor.

"Nor shall I be left behind," cried Christopher Burley, showing a spirit that I did not think was in him. "I can handle a gun, sir."

He did not wait for permission, but borrowed a spare coat that hung on the wall and helped himself to a serviceable musket and a supply of powder and ball.

"Denzil, you had better go ahead and turn the men out," said the factor. "We will follow shortly."

I was eager to do this, and, accompanied by Baptiste, I hurried from the house. I thought with uneasiness, as I plodded across the inclosure, that I had seen few worse storms. The snow was falling line and thick, and a stinging, shrieking wind was already heaping it in drifts.

"The redskins will give us trouble, sir," Baptiste said ominously.

"No doubt," I assented sharply; "but we could beat off double their numbers. Don't go and croak among the men, Baptiste."

The quarters were quite deserted, tidings of the expected attack having emptied them, and I found all the inmates of the fort—save those on duty—assembled near the northeast tower. These included the few Indian employees, who were to be fully trusted. I made a quick round of the loopholes, and learned that all was now quiet, and that no signals or movement had been observed for several minutes. When I returned Griffith Hawke and his little party had arrived, and I communicated the state of affairs to them.

"It is the calm before the storm," remarked Captain Rudstone. "I'll wager anything you like the savages are going to rush us."

We waited five minutes, standing about in scattered group, and listening for some warning from the watch tower. It was the eve of the factor's wedding—a fact that I recalled with bitter irony as I noted him posted alertly in the pelting snow, musket in hand, expecting shortly to be plunged in the thick of a bloody fray. Far across in the distance a gleam of light twinkled in the window of Flora's room. What were her thoughts?

A hand tapped me on the shoulder; I turned and saw Christopher Burley.

"It is worse than a London fog, this cold," he said, with chattering teeth. "I seem to feel it in my bones. How long will we wait, Mr. Carew?"

"That is hard to tell," I replied. "If you are freezing, go indoors."

I think he would have taken me at my word, but I had hardly spoken when the brooding silence was shattered by a cry from the watch-tower:

"Look sharp! They are coming on two sides! To the loopholes!"

Here and there a shout was heard, but for the most part the warning was received with a grim calmness that spoke well for the fighting temper of our men. The next instant the air was full of Indian war-whoops—and a more blood-curdling and fearful sound I have yet to hear. Then the savages fired a continuous volley, and the bullets came rattling like sleet against the stockade; some entered at the loopholes, and a cry arose that a half-breed was down.

At the first—such trivial things will a man do at critical times—my attention was taken by Christopher Burley. Elevating his musket in air, he pulled the trigger, and was flat on his back before you could count two. I helped him to rise, and he began to rub his shoulder ruefully.

"It was too heavy a charge," he said. "Did I kill any one?"

"It's a mercy you didn't," I replied.

I gave him a word or two of instruction, but did not wait to see how far his pluck would carry him. I left him in the act of reloading, and sped to a loophole near the gates, which faced eastward.

The east and north sides were the ones chosen for the assault, and here a good third of our men had already posted themselves. They, and the marksmen in the corner tower were firing steadily. The fusillade, blending with Indian yells and volleys, made an indescribable din. I took a hasty glance without. Through the driving snow, I saw a horde of warriors dashing swiftly forward. There must have been a hundred in sight on that one side, and I knew that we were in for hot work if as many were attacking from the north.

On they rushed, and now some dropped craftily behind lopped-off trunks of trees which were sprinkled plentifully about the clearing. Others sought shelter from the wind-blown heaps of snow, but the greater part made for the stockade. The powder smoke would hide them for an instant, and then I would see them a dozen feet nearer.

The patter of bullets close to my head warned me of the danger I was in, and stirred me to action. I thrust out my musket and fired. I looked in time to see an Indian fling up his arms and fall; right and left of him dark blotches stained the snow. I reloaded, and fired again, shouting with excitement.

To the north and east, and where the tower rose between, was one blaze and crackle of muskets. Smoke hid the snow and savage yells drowned the shrieking of the wind. In spite of the terrific fire, the redskins poured on. A ball sang by my ear, and another sent a shower of splintered wood into my very face. Close on my right a man was shot through the chest; farther to the left I saw a half-breed stagger and fall.

"Steady, men!" rang out the factor's voice. "Stand firm and make every shot tell!"

I poked my musket through the loophole and pulled trigger. It was next to impossible to miss, so near was the foremost line of savages. I was reloading in frantic haste, when the stockade in front of me creaked and rattled. Above the top rose the heads and shoulders of three painted warriors, and the next instant, with shrill cries, they had leaped into the inclosure.



CHAPTER XXII.

HOT WORK.

I was standing so near that the three daring redskins all but fell upon me. As I dodged quickly back, one let fly a tomahawk. I felt it graze my head, and the next instant I had smashed the skull of the howling wretch with the butt end of my musket. Already three more were over the stockade, and the five fell upon our men with desperate fury. The yelling and whooping, the cries of the wounded, made an infernal din. A comrade on my left was shot in the mouth, and dropped writhing to the ground; a half-breed at my very side clapped a hand to his arm and spun round.

But by this time the scrimmage had been seen at a distance, and there was a rally to the spot. Two savages were clubbed to death, and a third fell by Captain Rudstone's musket. I shot a fourth through the chest, but in spite of the wound, he made at me, and I had to settle him with a blow above the ear.

For one Indian that was slain, however, two fresh ones scrambled into the inclosure. There were as agile as cats, and as daring as panthers. With bullet and tomahawk they assailed us, and we were soon hard-pressed all along the line. There was fierce fighting on the north as well, and so no help could be spared from that quarter. Indeed, I began to fear that the fort would be taken by sheer numbers; and even while I was engaged hand to hand with the painted fiends, I was meditating what steps to take to save Flora.

But when the situation was most critical, several things befell to turn the tide. At great risk a couple of plucky fellows loaded the howitzer—it had been discharged once—and thrusting the muzzle out of one of the boles provided for that purpose, they fired it point-blank into the mass of savages who were coming on to the assault. At the same moment a swivel gun roared a few yards to the left, and the two tremendous reports were followed by shrill yells of agony and consternation.

This appeared to check the rush from without, and of a sudden the top of the stockade showed empty against the skyline. Seeing this, we took heart, and attacked the savages who were inside more furiously than ever. Just then we were joined by half a dozen men from the watch-tower and by four others led by Griffith Hawke. The redskins wavered, fell back, and bolted in panic for their lives. Ten of them we shot down or clubbed, and as many succeeded in scrambling over the stockade. It had been a close shave, but the fort was saved for the present.

"Blaze away, or they'll be in again!" cried the factor. "Give them a steady volley!"

With ringing cheers we sprang to the loopholes, and fired as fast as we could load and empty. A vigorous fusillade was returned at first, but it soon slackened and straggled, and the whooping of the savages ceased entirely.

It was the same on the north side of the fort. The Indians had not retreated, but they were repulsed and disheartened, and were in no mood for further sacrifice. They lay hidden behind drifted snow and stumps, taking wary shots whenever they fancied they saw an opportunity.

Now we had time to breathe—time to take a welcome spell of rest after our hard struggle. We were all parched and powder grimed, and some of us were bandaging slight wounds. And the victory had cost us dear. Three sorely-hurt men had been carried off to the hospital, and among the dozen or more slain savages who lay in ghastly attitudes on the trampled, blood-soaked snow were four of our plucky defenders, who would never lift musket again. It was a hideous, revolting sight, and the raging storm, the murky gray of the night, lent an added horror to it.

The semi-lull continued, and little attention was paid to the straggling fire of the Indians, though sharp eyes were watching from the tower. Griffith Hawke came up to where I was leaning, breathing hard, on the barrel of my musket.

"Thank God you are all right, my boy!" he said hoarsely. "I never expected those devils would get over the stockade. It was Heaven's mercy that enabled us to drive them off; but we have lost heavily."

"Severely, indeed," I assented. "And so have the Indians. I doubt if they will try that game again. And what was the result at the north side, sir? I believe you had desperate fighting there at the same time."

"Not so bad as here," the factor replied; "but pretty nearly. The Indians broke in, but our fellows were getting the best of it when I left to help you. Menzies was in charge, and—ah! here he comes now."

The big Scotchman was loading his musket as he approached. He limped badly—a gunstock had struck him on the thigh—and he had a flesh wound in his left arm. He anxiously inquired how many we had lost, and when I told him, he shook his head gravely.

"I have three dead over yonder," he replied, "and twice as many disabled. The garrison is reduced by nearly a third, and the savages are fighting recklessly! I greatly fear, Hawke, that if they rush the stockade again—"

"We'll beat them off twice, thrice, four times if need be," the factor interrupted. "At the worst, we are likely to have a long siege of it."

He spoke cheerfully and confidently, but none the less I saw a haggard, strained look in his face, as he glanced toward the flickering light in Flora's window.

By this time the firing was taking a brisker turn, and the three of us separated, Hawke and Menzies striding across to the north side of the inclosure. I went to my old place, and there I remained for a trying half-hour.

Trying is a poor word for the sort of warfare the Indians carried on during that interval. They were scattered about thickly to north and east of the fort, and within close range, but each warrior was cunningly concealed behind a stump or a snow hillock.

How they could see so well is a mystery, but certain it is that they brought their muskets to bear on every loophole of the stockade and the tower. The storm was raging bitterly, but in their furred garments their hide moccasins and leggings, they defied the exposure.

At the first we lost a man killed, and had three wounded. Then we grew more careful, and reconnoitered from what little crevices we could find before we ventured on a shot. Those who had no loopholes kept loading spare muskets and passing them to us, taking our own as soon as we fired. I had several narrow escapes, but by watching for the spurts of flame and smoke and for the limbs that now and then showed darkly against the snow, I killed or disabled half a dozen of the enemy. Baptiste was on my right, and just beyond him was Captain Rudstone.

There was one diversion during the time I speak of, and that from the west side of the fort, where a great clamor of firing and whooping suddenly broke out. I did not dare to leave my post—I was virtually in charge of the east stockade—but Captain Rudstone led half a dozen men to the disturbed quarter. The scrimmage was quickly over, and when the captain returned I got a report from him.

"It's all right," he said. "The devils rushed us, but we drove them back by volleys from the loopholes, killing half a score and losing one ourselves. The ground dips down to the fort there, and we had a clean sweep. They won't molest us on that side again—it was a half-hearted attack, anyway."

"I wish they would drop the whole thing," I replied bitterly.

Captain Rudstone shrugged his shoulders.

"You would be a fool to expect it, Carew," he said. "I am not a bird of ill-omen, but, by Heaven! the redskins are determined to hang on till they take the fort."

"They'll have a wait," said I.

"That's as maybe," the captain rejoined. "If there were only the Indians to reckon with! But Northwest men are among them, cleverly disguised; and I doubt not Cuthbert Mackenzie is one of them."

"I am sure of it," I asserted.

"He is after revenge—and Miss Hatherton," the captain went on. "And to my mind, it is a toss up which will make the girl the happier—Mackenzie or Hawke."

I turned on him fiercely, and I could have struck him with pleasure; he seemed to take a malicious delight in probing my heart wound.

"Is this a time to talk of such things?" I cried. "I wish to hear none of it, Captain Rudstone. Miss Hatherton is nothing to me!"

The captain laughed—a low, sneering laugh—and just then an Indian bullet sang between us.

"A close shave!" he muttered, as he strode off to his loophole.

I turned to mine, and it partly relieved my feelings to get a shot at a feathered scalp-lock, that was bobbing behind a tuft of bushes twenty feet away. I aimed true, and with a convulsive leap a warrior fell sprawling in the open.

My success stirred the savages up a little, drawing a chorus of vengeful whoops, and a straggling shower of lead that pelted the stockade like hail.

Then the fire ceased almost entirely, ami after waiting and watching for five minutes, I concluded to leave my post temporarily and have a look about the fort.



CHAPTER XXIII.

THE SECOND RUSH.

I went first to the highest watch-tower, the occupants of which had been better protected than those at the stockade, but for all that I found one poor fellow dead and another badly wounded. Such a true and steady fire had been poured at the loopholes, I was told, that it was as much as the men's lives were worth to expose themselves sufficiently to take aim. I looked out for a moment, but though I could see vaguely through the driving snow to the dark line of the forest, not an Indian was in sight.

"They have not retreated?" I asked.

"Not them, sir," a grizzled voyageur remarked, with emphasis. "Every clump of bushes, every stump and snow heap, has a lurking redskin behind it. And the woods yonder are full of 'em, too."

He had hardly spoken when there was a flash and a report off to the left, followed quickly by one from the right. Both shots were aimed at the stockade loopholes, but they seemed to strike harmlessly, and drew no reply from our men.

"Consarn the devils!" growled the voyageur as he peered into the night. "They don't show as much as a feather tip."

"They ain't lying so long in the snow for nothing," added another man. "They'll be at us again with a rush presently."

"I am afraid they will," I assented. "Keep a sharp lookout and give us timely warning."

With that I left the tower and walked along the north side of the fort. I was glad to observe that the men were in confident and even cheerful spirits. Some were loading muskets, while others were bringing bullets and canisters of powder, and, what was more urgently needed at present, pannikins of steaming hot coffee. The latter, I ascertained, came from the factor's house, and I had no doubt that it was due to the womanly forethought of Flora and Mrs. Menzies.

I could not find Father Cleary, and on making inquiries I learned that he was with the wounded, who had all been taken to the hastily improvised hospital in the men's quarters. I was told that he had stuck to his post through the fighting, and had done as good and valorous service as any man in the fort.

Mr. Christopher Burley I came upon seated astride of an empty cask, with his musket across his knees. His cap was gone, and his hair was awry; he was scarcely recognizable for a mask of perspiration and powder grime.

"I congratulate you," I said, "on keeping a sound skin."

"The same to you," he replied. "It was indeed a severe and bloody fight. I bore your advice in mind Mr. Carew, and I have fired six shots without discomfort."

"To what purpose?" I inquired.

"I hope at least that I have hit none of our own men," he answered with a touch of humor. "I confess I am more handy with a quill than a musket. I have friends in London, sir, who will not believe me when I relate my adventures in this barbarous country. But, alas! I may not live to see England again."

I thought this more than likely, but did not tell him so.

"Come, come, Mr. Burley!" I replied, "keep up your spirits; don't yield to depression. You will be spared to stamp many a blue document—to entangle scores of luckless litigants in the meshes of the law."

I clipped on without waiting to see how he took this sally, and went as far as the northwest angle of the fort. Here I stopped to talk with some comrades who were drinking hot coffee flavored with a dash of rum.

Close by, other men were watching alertly at the loopholes. Occasionally they would fire at some partly exposed Indians, and then dodge back as a straggling volley of bullets pelted the stockade. Over on the east side muskets were cracking in the same desultory fashion. The storm showed no signs of abating. On the contrary, the snow was falling more thickly and in finer flakes, and a bitter wind was constantly heaping it in higher drifts, and blowing it in blinding, eddying showers about the inclosure.

I was about to return to my post, warmed and strengthened by a pannikin of coffee, when a couple of shots rang out. One of the very men to whom I had been talking—a young Scotchman named Blair—reeled and fell heavily, hit by a ball that had entered at a loophole. I bent over him, and saw at once that he was badly hurt. He was shot in the left breast, and blood was oozing from his lips.

"It's all up with me, Carew," he moaned. "Let me lie here."

"Not a bit of it," I replied. "You'll pull through, take my word for it. But you must be in the doctor's hands without delay."

Three of us picked the wounded man up, and bore him across the yard to the hospital. At the door I relinquished my share of the burden, for the firing had suddenly recommenced so briskly that I feared the savages were meditating a rush.

But the fusillade dwindled to a few shots before I was halfway to the east side, and the next instant, as I was pushing along leisurely, I saw a dark object looming out of the snow twenty feet to my right. It was the figure of a woman. Her back was toward me, and she seemed to have halted in perplexity.

Suddenly she moved forward a little, and with that I was in pursuit, my heart beating fast. As I overtook her she turned round with a start.

"Denzil!" she gasped.

As I had suspected, it was Flora Hatherton. She was muffled in a cloak, a fur cap crowned her pretty face, and in her gloved hands she held a light musket.

"You here!" I exclaimed. "Are you mad, to expose yourself to such danger? Go back!"

"I don't want to go back," she said. "Please don't make me, Denzil."

"You must," I answered sharply. "Is it possible that Mrs. Menzies allowed you to do this rash thing?"

"I came without her permission. She thinks I have retired," Flora replied in a spirited tone. "Let me help to defend the fort, Denzil. I can fire a gun, and I am not a bit afraid, and it is my duty, I feel like a coward these brave men fighting and dying."

What could I say? The girl's rashness angered me, but I admired her pluck and courage. I had never loved her so much as I loved her that instant—never so fully realized what the barrenness of my life would be without her. And she was Griffith Hawke's!

"Flora—" I began.

She seemed to divine my feelings, and of a sudden she shrank a little from me.

"Hush!" she said. "I have been foolish and impulsive, Denzil. I am going back to Mrs. Menzies."

The mad words were checked on my lips.

"Yes, go!" I answered hoarsely. "Go at once—"

There was the sound of a footfall to one side, and I glanced around to see the factor. How much he had heard I could only surmise; but he stood in silence for a moment, looking from one to the other of us.

"Flora, why are you here?" he asked, and to me his voice seemed cold and harsh.

"I wanted to help to defend the fort," she answered in faltering tones, "but Mr. Carew stopped me—"

"I fortunately met Miss Hatherton," I broke in, "and urged her to go back."

"Quite right," said the factor. "It is not a woman's part to fight. Your place is in the house, Flora."

Without a word she turned and glided rapidly through the snow. Griffith Hawke hesitated, and then started to follow her; but he had not made two steps when a cry rang loudly from the northeast watch-tower:

"The redskins are coming! The clearing is alive with them! Every man to his post!"

The alarm was not a false one, for immediately a fiendish clamor and whooping broke out and scores of musket shots blended in a rattling din. The attack seemed to be directed entirely against the east side, and to that quarter the two of us ran fleetly.

"Spare guns this way!" the factor shouted at the top of his voice. "Stand firm, men!"

The scene that followed baffles description. There was no panic or fright, nor did the men entirely desert the other sides of the fort for the threatened point; but all who could be spared rallied to the north. I felt sure that this second rush would be a more serious business than the first, and I was not mistaken.

I quickly reached the stockade—I did not see what had become of Griffith Hawke—and managed to squeeze my way through to one of the loopholes. At grave risk—for the fire was already heavy on both sides—I peered briefly out. Through the smoke and snow I saw the dusky warriors advancing in great numbers and at close quarters, filling the air with their infernal yells. Some carried felled saplings with the branches lopped off short, the purpose of which was plain.

One glimpse was enough. I began to fire with my comrades, reckless of the bullets that whizzed about me. From angle to angle of the north stockade, from the embrasures of the tower, poured a deadly sheet of flame. A howitzer crashed, and then a swivel gun. I fired three times—spare muskets were passed to me—and I drew back from the loophole to reload. By the ruddy flashes I recognized friends—Baptiste and Captain Rudstone, Griffith Hawke and Andrew Menzies, the excited countenance of Christopher Burley in the rear.

"Rake them down," the factor cried shrilly. "Beat them off if you can. Don't let them get a footing inside!"

The words were hardly uttered when the stockade groaned and rattled. The savages had reared their rude scaling ladders against it, and by these means some gained the top, while others clambered up with the agility of cats.

It was a most desperate and daring assault, but we met it with the dogged pluck of men who fight for a last chance. We shot half a score of the devils as they clung to the top of the stockade, and speedily finished others who dropped down among us.

They poured over thicker and faster, screeching like fiends, and now we were driven back a little. We fired as long as we could load, and then made an onset with clubbed muskets. The advantage was on our side, the Indians being mostly armed with tomahawks, and though more than a score of them were inside at once, we soon sent them scrambling back, and so checked the incoming tide.

A little handful stuck out to the last, disdaining to flee. They came at us ferociously, and nearly broke through our line. I finished one, and Captain Rudstone and Baptiste killed two more. A fourth Indian—a stalwart, hideously painted savage—carried a musket. He suddenly leveled it and fired, and I heard a sharp cry behind me. I looked round in time to see Griffith Hawke stagger, clutch at the rail and fall heavily.



CHAPTER XXIV.

A BLACK NIGHT.

At the time, so exciting and dangerous was the situation, I scarcely realized what had happened. The fight was still raging, and I was in the thick of it. Leaving others to render aid to the factor, I sprang with clubbed musket at the redskin who had shot him. I struck hard and true, and I yelled hoarsely as he dropped with a shattered skull. My comrades finished several more, and now the survivors—four in number—turned and fled. One scrambled safely over the stockade; the other three were cut down as they ran.

That ended the struggle. Again, and with terrible loss, our desperate foes had been repulsed. The moaning of the wounded was drowned in hearty cheers, and the musketry fire had dwindled to a few straggling shots. There was a sudden cry from the watch-tower that the enemy were in full retreat, and I ran to a loophole to see if this good news could be verified. It was true enough! The Indians were fading away into the curtain of snow, and in a manner that showed they had no intention of stopping short cf the forest, since none took to shelter in the clearing.

I peered out for a few moments, until not a savage was in sight. Then the triumphant clamor within the fort seemed to change to an angry and mournful key, and I heard the factors name called from mouth to mouth. As I turned from the loophole, Captain Rudstone met me face to face.

"He wants you," he said. "Come at once."

"Who?" I asked mechanically.

"Griffith Hawke, of course. Surely you knew he had been shot. He is dying, I believe."

I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. The captain looked at me keenly for an instant, and then strode off. I followed at his heels, reeling like a drunken man, and with my thoughts in such a whirl as I cannot describe.

Griffith Hawke dying! It was difficult to grasp the meaning of the words. At first I felt bitter grief and remorse for the untimely end of the man who had been my greatest benefactor; I remembered his many kindnesses, and how basely I had requited them.

Captain Rudstone led the way to the little room at the base of the watch-tower. We pushed through the crowd outside and when I was over the threshold I saw a pitiable sight by the glow of a lantern. Griffith Hawke lay partly on a blanket, with Andrew Menzies supporting his head and shoulders. His face was ghastly pale, and there was blood on his lips and chest. The doctor, kneeling beside him, was preparing to give him a dose of spirits. Half a dozen sorrowing men stood about.

"His minutes are numbered," Captain Rudstone whispered in my ear. "He is shot through the lungs. They brought him here because it was the nearest place of shelter."

The factor looked up and saw me. He made a feeble gesture, and as I knelt by him the tears came to my eyes and a lump rose in my throat. I would have given anything to save his life; my sorrow was true and sincere.

"They tell me the fort is safe—that the Indians have retreated to the woods," he whispered faintly.

"Yes, they have been beaten off," I replied, "and with heavy loss."

"Thank God!" he murmured. "They will hardly make another attack. All will go well now. Menzies, have you sent for Miss Hatherton?" he added.

"Yes, she will soon be here."

The dying man lifted his head a little, looking at me with a smile. The doctor poured some strong liquor between his lips, and it instantly brought a brightness to his eyes and a tinge of color to his cheeks.

"That will keep me up for a time," he whispered. "I have something to say to Mr. Carew, and I wish it to be as private as possible. You and the doctor must remain, Menzies, but the rest—"

A spasm of pain stopped him, and while he writhed with it all the men who were in the room, save we three kneeling by him, stepped quietly outside. He grew more comfortable in a moment, glanced wistfully at the door, and put a cold hand in one of mine.

"Denzil, my boy, it is only a question of a few minutes," he said, in a low voice. "I am dying at my post, and without regret. It is better so. I nearly made a mistake, but I saw it in time. I know your secret—I suspected it days ago. You love Miss Hatherton—"

"It is true," I interrupted hoarsely. "Forgive me, my old friend, and believe that I would not for the world have wronged you in thought or deed. I would have left the fort long ago, had you given consent—"

"Hush! there is nothing to forgive," he murmured. "Mine was the mistake—mine the blame. It is only natural that you should have loved each other. I was too old to mate with one so young and fair. I had made up my mind to release her from her promise—to give her to you, Denzil."

He stopped again, and I saw a sudden change in his face. The doctor answered my questioning look with a grave nod, and just then the door was thrown open and Flora entered. She gave me a glance of startled surprise, and knelt on the opposite side. Shaking the snow from her furred cloak, she bent over the dying man; her eyes filled with tears of grief and pity, and her lips trembled.

"Griffith, tell me it is not true!" she cried; "Live for my sake!"

He looked from the girl to me.

"God bless you both!" he said weakly. "Do not grieve for me, Flora. I loved you, but it was more the love of a father for a daughter. Now I leave you a legacy of happiness—a husband who will cherish and protect you. Promise before I go that you will be Denzil's wife. I shall die the happier if I know that my mistake—is—atoned—"

The effort was too much for him. He gasped for breath, and his face turned the color of ashes, blood oozed to his lips. I was speechless with emotion, and Flora was weeping too bitterly for words; but I saw her lips move, and she suddenly stretched out her hand. I clasped it for a brief moment, and as I released it and looked at Griffith Hawke, he shuddered from head to foot and lay still, with closed eyes.

"He is dead," said Menzies.

"Yes, it is over," assented the doctor.

A silence fell on us all, broken only by Flora's sobbing. Overhead, the sentries spoke in low tones while they watched at their posts, and outside the wind howled a mournful requiem.

* * * * *

Through the remaining hours of that night the storm raged, heaping the snow in higher drifts, and keeping half a dozen men busily employed in clearing the entrances to the various outbuildings. That the Indians had taken shelter in the forest, and were not likely to attempt another assault, did little to lighten the general gloom and grief that pervaded the fort, for there was not a man but felt he had lost a friend in Griffith Hawke. As for myself, I had a heavy weight of responsibility upon me, and that prevented my mind from dwelling too much on other things. I gave a thought now and again to my new-born happiness, but the thrill of joy was as quickly stifled by bitter shame—by a vision of the dead man who had returned good for my meditated evil. Flora was in the care of Mrs. Menzies. Captain Rudstone had taken her back to the house, and I had no intention of seeking an interview with her until she should have partly recovered from the shock of the factor's death.

It was indeed a black and dreadful night—a night of horrors and anxiety, of gloom and mourning. For the outlook was by no means so bright as we had let Griffith Hawke believe. What the result would be if the savages rushed us a third time none of us dared contemplate. It was too much to expect that they would abandon the siege, with men of the Northwest Company among them to egg them on; and if they knew our weakness, as was likely, another desperate attack was certain to come sooner or later. Out of a total number of forty-six at the beginning of the trouble, no more than half were now fit for service, the rest were dead or disabled.

These were stern facts that weighed heavy on my mind and held me sleepless and occupied while the night wore on. I saw well to it that the sentries were alert and at their posts, that muskets and howitzers were loaded and ammunition within easy reach, that the stockade was secure at every point. I fought off drowsiness and fatigue with cups of hot coffee, with pipes of strong tobacco.

Two hours before dawn the weather thawed a little and the snow turned to a drizzling rainfall. In the gray flush of early morning when I made my last round, it was bitterly cold again; a crust was on the snow, and the leaden skies promised an early resumption of the storm. To north and east the drifts reached halfway to the top of the stockade.

Bluish curls of smoke, rising here and there out of the surrounding forest, told that the Indians were still in the vicinity. The frozen crust was an incentive to them to make a final attack, and I expected it during the day. I ate a hasty breakfast, and then Menzies summoned me to the factor's house, where he had called a meeting to consider the situation.



CHAPTER XXV.

A RAY OF HOPE.

In all five of us assembled—five low-spirited, grave-faced men: the others were Menzies and Captain Rudstone, Dr. Knapp and an old and experienced voyageur named Carteret, whose judgment was to be relied upon. A discussion of a few minutes found us unanimously agreed that it would be impossible to repulse the Indians should they make another attack in force; nor did we doubt that such a crisis would come sooner or later.

"There is no chance of the siege being lifted," said Captain Rudstone. "One or more disguised Northwest men are directing operations, and they must know——"

"I'll swear Cuthbert Mackenzie is the leader," I broke in. "He won't neglect such an opportunity as offers now."

"Right you are!" exclaimed Carteret, with a shrug of the shoulders. "It's temptation thrown in the way of the redskins. Talk about easy! A firm crust on the snow, and the drifts nearly up to the top of the stockade I Why, they could pour a hundred braves into the fort before we could shoot down ten of them!"

"And they will do just that," declared Captain Rudstone. "They know that we have lost heavily, and can't offer much resistance to a rush. I'll venture to predict that the attack is made late this afternoon, when the twilight begins to gather."

"It will mean the loss of the fort," said I. "We can't shut our eyes to that fact. We have a few hours of grace left; let us make the most of them."

"But what are we to do?" said Dr. Knapp.

"Ay, what?" Menzies echoed dismally. "There's no chance of help, you'll admit, and even if a messenger had got through in time, Fort York couldn't have spared us any men. As it is, they probably have no idea of what is happening here. Do you suggest that we lower our flag and surrender?"

"Never that!" said I.

"Then what other choice have we but to be slaughtered to a man?" continued the hard-headed old Scotchman. "Perhaps you will kindly explain, Mr. Carew, how we are to make the most of these few hours of grace."

Menzies spoke sneeringly, and with an aggravating touch of irony; but I kept my temper, hoping that he would shortly alter his opinion of my advice. In truth, I had been turning a matter over in my mind while the discussion was going on, and I fancied I saw a way for some of us at least, to save both life and honor.

"If we surrendered, we should likely be slaughtered just the same," I replied. "So that is out of the question. But I have a plan, Mr. Menzies—a sort of a middle course—to offer in the event of the fort falling."

"Go on," said he, with a contemptuous sniff.

"I must ask you a question or two first," I replied.

"Dr. Knapp, how many wounded are in your care?"

"They are in Father Cleary's care at present," he answered. "But I have seven, Carew."

"And how many are fit to travel, on foot or on sledges?"

He reflected for a moment, looking at me with surprise.

"Two will die before night," he said, "and a third is in a bad way. The other four might make a shift on snowshoes."

"It is better than I expected," said I. "And now for my plan. This house, with its loopholes and heavy shutters, was constructed for such an emergency as the present. I suggest that we at once move in the wounded, three or four sledges, all the powder and ball and a quantity of provisions. If the attack comes, and we see that we can't repulse it, we will all take shelter here, and in time to withdraw the men from other points. The house is practically fireproof, and I am sure we can hold it for a week or more, if need be."

"It would catch fire from the outbuildings," suggested the doctor.

"The Indians won't burn those," said I. "They will save them for their own protection."

"And how is the siege of the house to end?" asked Menzies. "Do you expect the Indians to withdraw, or do you count on aid arriving?"

"I admit there is no chance of either." I replied. "My idea is this. The inside of the inclosure is already deep under a frozen drift, and from the look of the weather there will be more snow in plenty within a few hours. We will excavate a tunnel beneath it, starting from one of the little windows that give air to the cellar, and leading to some part of the south stockade. Then in a day or two, when the night is dark and other conditions favorable, what is to prevent us from making our escape unseen to the forest, and by quick traveling gain Fort York?"

"The Indians would break into the tunnel while prowling about," said Dr. Knapp.

"We won't make it high enough for that." I replied stoutly, "and, besides, the crust will be too hard."

"It's a sound plan!" exclaimed Captain Rudstone.

"Ay, I'm of the same mind," added Carteret. "It's well worth the trying. And it's that or a bloody massacre—there are no two ways about it."

"It seems a cowardly thing," grumbled Menzies, "to yield the redskins all but this house, and then slink away from that under cover of darkness and by a trick. A rich lot of the company's property will fall into their hands!"

"True enough," said I bitterly, "and the old flag-will be hauled down for the first time in the records! But consider, sir; there is nothing else to be done! Carteret has given you the gist at the matter. And think of the women!"

The blunt old Scotchman was touched in a tender spot; his face softened.

"Ay, my poor wife!" he said, with a sigh. "And Miss Hatherton! They must not fall into the power of these red devils—or of Cuthbert Mackenzie. It's a level head you have on your shoulders, Denzil. I fear I spoke hastily—"

"As was your right," I interrupted. "It was presumptuous of me to offer advice. But I am pleased to think that you favor my suggestion."

"It is a last chance," he replied, "and we must cling to it for the sake of the women. Were it not for them I would hold out to the end. Ah, the pity of it! To think that Fort Royal will be lost!"

"It will rise again stronger than ever," Captain Rudstone said grimly, "when the Northwest Company has been crushed out of existence."

"May I live to see the day!" said Menzies fervently.

We held some further discussion, during which a number of minor details were arranged. Then Dr. Knapp returned to the hospital, and Captain Rudstone and Carteret set off to acquaint the men with the proposed plan, and to see to the removal of the wounded and the various supplies to the factor's house. Meanwhile, Baptiste having come in, he reported that there was no sign of any threatening movement on the part of the savages, and we fully expected none until evening.

I had promised my companions to take some sleep—which I stood badly in need of—but first I insisted on going over the lower floor of the house with Menzies. We examined all the rooms, the doors and walls, the shutters and loopholes, and I was satisfied with the inspection. When we returned to the hall Mrs. Menzies hailed her husband from above. He went upstairs and as I passed the open door of the room in which we had held our gathering, on my way out, I caught the flutter of a woman's gown and heard my name pronounced in a whisper.

Stepping inside, I saw Flora. She was standing by the table, with a look on her sweet face that set my heart throbbing wildly. How it happened I scarcely knew, but the next instant she was in my arms, held close to my breast, and I was showering kisses on her unresisting lips and eyes.

"Denzil!" she whispered. "My hero—my own love!"

"At last, my darling!" I muttered. "You are mine! None can take you away from me. Say that you love me, Flora!"

"I do with all my heart!"

"And when will you marry me?"

"Some day, dear Denzil," she replied.

She gently released herself and gazed at me timidly.

"Oh, it must be wrong to feel so happy," she added with a little sob in her voice, "while he is lying cold and dead. How generous and noble he was! And think of it, Denzil, he intended to give me up! I am glad I was true to him."

"I wish I had been truer," I said bitterly. "But it is too late for regrets. A better man than Griffith Hawks never lived. He was worthy of you, Flora. Can I say more?"

"I will never forget him," she answered softly. "Oh, this cruel, cruel war! And they say the fort is in danger, Denzil. That is what I wanted to ask you."

"Don't believe it," said I. "There will be more fighting—perhaps a protracted siege—but our brave men will prove more than a match for the cowardly redskins. Trust to me, dearest. I will save you from, all harm and peril."

At that moment Menzies was heard returning. I caught the girl in my arms, kissed her twice, and hurried from the house. All was quiet as I crossed the yard, and I observed that fine flakes of snow were commencing to drop. Flora was mine! I could think of nothing else when I entered my quarters, but, for all that I was so worn out that I fell asleep the moment I threw myself on the bed.



CHAPTER XXVI.

AS TWILIGHT FELL.

For more than twenty-four hours I had taken no repose, and as nothing occurred to rouse me, I slept longer than I intended. When I opened my eyes languidly the room was so dark that I could scarcely make out a chair against the wall, and the window-panes were crusted with frost and snow. At once I was wide awake, and all the incidents of the morning flashed into my mind. I knew that this was the time when the attack was expected, and for a moment I sat up and listened anxiously, but I heard only a distant hum of voices.

"All is well so far," I thought. "I hope no precautions have been neglected, for when the storm bursts it will be sudden and fierce."

I threw off the blankets that covered me, and leaped out of bed. Hastily donning my fur capote, cap and mittens, and taking my loaded musket, I left the quarters without encountering any person.

I paused outside to look about, and the scene that met my eyes was a dreary one. The inclosure was shrouded in the murky gray gloom of twilight. It was bitterly cold, and snow was falling fast. The various outbuildings loomed dimly here and there between the narrow paths and high-banked drifts. The only ray of light visible was behind me, and shone from the window of Flora's room. As I turned from a brief contemplation of it, I saw a man passing and hailed him. He proved to be Baptiste.

"Why was I not wakened?" I demanded sharply. "Here is the night upon us, and I wished to be up at noon."

"Mr. Menzie's orders, sir," he replied. "He said you were not to be disturbed."

I questioned Baptiste further, and learned that there had been no alarm during the day, and that not an Indian had shown himself. He also relieved my mind concerning the preparations for holding the factor's house.

"They moved everything in," he said; "food and blankets, all the powder and ball, four sledges, and the wounded men."

"And the dead, Baptiste?"

"They are buried, sir—under the snow."

"Ah, then no time has been wasted," said I. "If the worst comes we shall be ready—"

"There is nothing more to be done, Carew," interrupted a voice at my elbow. "No step that prudence or forethought could dictate has been omitted."

The speaker was Captain Rudstone, who had approached unperceived.

"Has your sleep refreshed you?" he added.

"Very much," I replied. "I feel fit for another stretch of fighting. What is the situation now?"

"The calm before the storm, to my mind," he declared. "Sentries are posted to command a view from every side of the fort. Both towers will be abandoned at the first alarm, and all the men will rush to the quarter whence it comes, those are the general orders. If the redskins prove too strong for us, we will retreat to the factor's house."

"Ay, and hold it," said I. "The place is impregnable, Rudstone!"

"That remains to be seen," he answered. "Go and get some supper, Carew, while you have the chance."

"Then you think the attack is imminent?"

"Yes, it may come at any moment."

"But Baptiste tells me the Indians have made no sign all day."

"True enough," assented the captain, "and that's the worst of it. They are hatching some deep-laid deviltry, be sure! I have my suspicions, and I communicated them to Menzies. He agrees with me that the attack will probably burst upon us in the form of a—"

He never finished the sentence. The words were stifled on his lips by a tremendous explosion that seemed to shake the very ground, and rattled and thundered far away into the heart of the wilderness. A crash of falling debris followed, and then the night rang with shrill clamor and blood-curdling whoops.

"Nom de Dieu! we are lost!" wailed Baptiste.

"My God, what does it mean?" I cried, clutching Captain Rudstone's arm with a trembling hand.

"My prediction, Carew," he answered hoarsely. "It has come—it is what I expected. The devils have tunneled under the snow and planted a powder bag against the stockade. They have blown a breach."

"We'll keep them out of it as long as we can," I shouted. "Hark! the fighting has begun."

The captain and I had already set off on a run, and Baptiste was hanging at our heels. Shouting and yelling rose from all parts of the fort, and blended with the wild cheers of the savages. Dark forms loomed right and left of us as we sped on. Guided by the clamor and by the great column of smoke that was stamped blackly against the driving snow, we soon reached the scene of the explosion, which was the northeast watch-tower.

It is impossible to describe the sight that was revealed to us by the first rapid glimpse. All that day the redskins must have been burrowing a passage beneath the drifts from the woods to the fort. They had planted a bag or cask of powder at the very base of the tower, and blown it into a heap of ruins, out of which could be seen sticking the bodies of the two poor fellows who had been on duty there. As yet only a small force of Indians—those who had approached by the tunnel—were storming the breach, and these were being held at bay by a dozen of our men who had reached the spot before the captain and myself. Muskets were cracking, and tomahawks were flying through the air; the yells of invaders and invaded made a horrible din.

At the first I saw some hope of holding the sheltered place—of beating the enemy off. I plunged into the thick of the fight, emptying my gun into the breast of a red devil, and bringing the butt down on the head of another. We pressed close up to the sides of the tower, and gained footholds on the ruins. Hand to hand we fought desperately, shooting and striking at the Indians and keeping them on the outside of the fort. Not many of them had firearms, and so far as I could see, but one of our men had fallen.

"Stand up to it!" I shouted. "Hold your ground!"

"Hit hard!" cried Captain Rudstone. "Finish all you can before the main rush comes!"

Flushed with triumph, half-crazed by the thirst for blood, we did not pause to reflect that the scale must soon turn the other way. Face to face, weapon to weapon, we held the savages at bay, sending one after another to his last account. Meanwhile more men kept joining us, until, excepting a few who were on duty at other points, our whole available force was present. I heard Andrew Menzies giving directions. I saw Father Cleary on my left and Christopher Burley on the right, both striking at the painted faces behind the shattered walls.

"This is hot work, Carew," Captain Rudstone found a chance to shout in my ear, "and it's precious little use to keep it up. The devils will soon be at us in their hundreds. Now is the time to make a safe retreat to the house."

"I think the same," I answered, as I dodged a whizzing tomahawk; "and if Menzies don't soon give the command I will."

The words were scarcely out of my mouth when the clamor took a deeper, shriller pitch. We all knew what it meant—the tide was turning. Through the gaping holes in the watch tower stamped against the snowy mist, we saw a dark mass rolling forward—scores and scores of painted Indians.



CHAPTER XXVII.

THE SIEGE OF THE HOUSE.

They had started from the woods the moment the explosion occurred, and they would have arrived earlier but for the fresh snow that lay on the frozen crust.

"Stand firm!" cried Menzies. "Give them a raking volley at close quarters."

"And be ready to retire in good order," I shouted. "We can't afford to lose a man."

With that the living tide was upon us. Screeching and veiling like demons, the horde of savages struck the weakened northeast angle of the fort. There was no checking them, though our muskets poured a leaden rain. Some entered by the breach, dashing over the debris of wood and stone; others clambered to the top of the palisades and dropped down inside.

At the first we had to retire a little, so overwhelming was the rush. Then we made a brief stand and tried to stem the torrent. Bang, bang, bang! bullets flew thickly, from both sides and hissing tomahawks fell among us. I saw two men drop near me, and heard cries of agony mingling with the infernal din. We held our ground until the foremost of the savages were at arm's length, striking and hacking at us through the snow and powder smoke. Two or three score were already within the fort, and when a section of the stockade fell with a crash—borne down by sheer weight—I believed for a terrible moment that all was lost.

"Back, back!" I cried hoarsely. "Back for your lives, men! We can't do anything more here!"

"Ay, the inclosure is taken!" shouted Captain Rudstone. "Back to the house! Keep your faces to the foe, and make every shot tell!"

Menzies called out a similar order, seeing that any delay would imperil our last chance, and those of us who were left slowly began the retreat. We drew off into the narrow passage, with high banks of snow on either side, that led to the factor's house. The yelling redskins pressed after us, and for several moments, by a cool and steady fire, we prevented them from coming to close quarters again.

We kept firing and loading while we moved backward, and as it was next to impossible to miss, the Indians seemed disheartened by the heavy damage we inflicted on them. For ourselves, we lost three men in a brief time, and we would have lost more but for the shelter of the outbuildings, round some of which the path turned.

When we were halfway to the house, and had passed the quarters, we were joined by the sentries from the southwest tower. But now the savages plucked up courage, and made a rush that brought them within six yards of us. We stood at bay, and delivered a straggling fire. The Indians returned it as they pushed on doggedly. A voyageur fell at my side, and another dropped in front of me. There was a sudden cry that the priest was shot, and glancing to the right, I saw Father Cleary reel down in the snow and lie motionless.

"We must run for it!" shouted Captain Rudstone. "Make a dash for the house, men!"

"For God's sake, no!" I yelled hoarsely. "If we turn now we will be overtaken and butchered! Hold firm!"

Just then, when the situation was most critical, an unexpected thing gave us the opportunity we so sorely needed. In the retreat we had dragged one of the howitzers along with us, and we had forgotten until now that it was loaded. In a trice we put it in position and touched it off.

Crash! The heavy charge ploughed into the huddled mass of savages. To judge from the agonized shrieks that followed the loss of life must have been terrible, but we could see nothing for the dense cloud of smoke that hung between us.

"To the house!" cried Menzies.

"Quick—for your lives!" I shouted.

With that we turned our backs and made off, dashing along in some disorder and leaving the howitzer behind. We half expected to be overtaken, but by the time the Indians had recovered from their check and pushed on, the house was before us.

We staggered inside by twos and threes, and closed and barred the massive door. A respite for rest and breathing was badly needed, but we did not dare to take it. Half of our men went to the front loopholes, and as fast as they could load and fire they picked off the yelling wretches who were now swarming thickly before the house. In their frenzied rage they exposed themselves recklessly, sending volley after volley of lead against the stout beams and even hurling tomahawks.

I took no part in this scrimmage myself. With Menzies and several others I went over the lower floor of the house, and made sure that all was in right condition for a protracted siege. We placed lighted candles in the hall, and opened the doors communicating with it, so that some light could shine into the various rooms.

Meanwhile the firing had dwindled and ceased, and when we returned to the front we found that the Indians had abandoned the attack and melted away; none were in sight from the loopholes, but we could hear them making a great clamor in the direction of the trading house and other outbuildings.

This relief gave us a chance to consult regarding our future plans, and to count up our little force. Alas! but sixteen of us had entered the house. That was our whole number; the rest of the forty odd had perished during the fighting of the past two days; and not the least mourned among that night's casualties was brave Father Cleary. Fortunately, none of us were disabled, though Christopher Burley had been grazed by a bullet, and Captain Rudstone and several others had been gashed slightly by tomahawks. The wounded transferred from the hospital, who were in a small room at the rear, were now reduced to five; two had died that morning, as Dr. Knapp predicted.

But there was no time for useless grief or idleness. We had no sooner served out rations, loaded all the guns and posted the men on the four sides of the house than the Indians showed a determination to crown their triumph by taking our stronghold. At first they kept to the shelter of the surrounding outbuildings, and blazed steadily away at the house, on the chance of sending a bullet through the loopholes or the chinks of the logs. Twice a little squad of savages rushed forward carrying a beam, with which they hoped to batter down the door. But we poured a hot fire into them—it was light enough outside for us to take aim—and each time they wavered and fell back, leaving the snow dotted with dead bodies.

After that came a lull, except for intermittent shots, and Captain Rudstone predicted that an unpleasant surprise was being prepared for us by the Northwest men whom we believed to be among the redskins.

"It may be all that," I answered him stoutly, "but the house is not to be taken."

A little later I took advantage of the inaction to go upstairs, whither Menzies had already preceded me. He was with his wife and Miss Hatherton in a back room with one small window, and that protected by a heavy shutter.

I drew Flora aside and explained to her, as hopefully as possible, the plan by which we expected ultimately to escape to Fort York. What else I said to her, or what sweet and thrilling words she whispered into my ear, I do not purpose to set down here; but when I returned to the lower floor my heart was throbbing with happiness, and I felt strengthened and braced to meet whatever fate might hold in store. I was strangely confident at the time that we should outwit our bloodthirsty foes.

Menzies followed me below, and almost at once the Indians renewed the attack, mainly on the front of the house and on the north side. They exposed themselves on the verge of the outbuildings, blazing away steadily, and drawing a constant return fire from our men. At the end of a quarter of an hour they were still wasting ammunition. They must have suffered heavily, and yet not one of their bullets had done us any harm. I wandered from room to room, taking an occasional shot, and finally I stopped in the hall, where Captain Rudstone and three others were posted at the loopholes right and left of the door.

"The Indians will run out of powder presently; if they keep up at this rate," said I. "They can't have much of a leader."

"Too clever a one for us," the captain answered, as he loaded his musket. "This is only a ruse, a diversion, Carew. There is something to follow."

"I hope it will come soon," I replied. "Then the savages will likely draw off and give us a chance to put a force of men to work at the tunnel. We should finish it by noon to-morrow, and escape through it at nightfall. If the snow keeps up—as it gives promise of doing—our tracks will be covered before we have gone a mile."

"I like the plan," said old Carteret, the voyageur. "It sounds well, and it's possible to be carried out under certain conditions. But if you'll not mind my saying—"

He paused an instant to aim and fire.

"One redskin the less," he added, peering out the loophole; "he sprang three feet in the air when I plugged him. As for your plan, Mr. Carew, I think the odds are about evenly divided. There's the chance that the varmints will suspect something of the sort, and watch the stockade on all sides."

"Likely enough," assented Captain Rudstone; "but it's not to that quarter I look for the danger. The Indians can take the house by assault in an hour if they choose to sacrifice a lot of lives."

"It would cost fifty or a hundred," said I. "They won't pay such a price."

"There is no telling how far they will go," the captain answered gravely, "with Northwest Company men to egg them on."

As he spoke there was a sudden and noisy alarm from the room on the right of the hall, which commanded the south side of the house. Half a dozen muskets cracked in rapid succession, the reports blending with a din of voices. Then Menzies yelled hoarsely: "This way, men! Come, for God's sake! Quick, or we are lost!"

The summons was promptly responded to. I was the first to dash into the room, followed by Rudstone and Carteret. I put my eyes to a vacant loophole and what I saw fairly froze the blood in my veins.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE END OF HOPE.

A body of Indians—nine or ten in number—were advancing at a run straight for the house, and each painted savage carried wrapped in his arms a mass of bedding from the abandoned sleeping quarters. I had no sooner caught a glimpse of the party and divined their alarming purpose, than a straggling volley was fired from the loopholes right and left of me. Crack! crack, crack!

Three Indians fell with their burdens, and one of them began to crawl away, dragging a broken limb after him. A fourth took fright and darted back, but the rest kept on. They were lost to view for an instant as they gained the very wall of the house and stacked the bedding against it. Then back they scurried to the shelter of the outbuildings, a single one falling by my musket, which I thrust quickly out and fired. Unfortunately my companions' weapons were empty.

"Load up, men, fast!" cried Menzies. "The devils intend to fire the house! They will be coming back with timber next!"

"God help us if they get a blaze started with bedding and dry wood!" said I. "The house will go—we won't be able to save it! I never counted on anything like this!"

"I was afraid of it from the first," replied Captain Rudstone, "though I hoped we should have time enough to dig the tunnel. Our only chance is to keep the redskins away from the wall."

"And that's a mighty poor one!" muttered Carteret.

"We must do it," groaned Menzies, "or it's all up with us. We can't get at the bedding; the fiends have put it too far off from the window."

A noisy clamor interrupted our conversation, as the men from other parts of the house poured into the room, drawn thither by Menzies' summons of a moment before. They were under the impression that a rush had been made and repelled; when they learned the truth they quieted down, and a sort of awed horror was visible on every face.

No time was wasted in words. At any instant the savages might return to complete their devilish task; the chance of beating them back, slight as it was must be made the most of. Our last card was staked on that, and we grimly prepared to play it. Eight men were assigned to the loopholes—there were four on each side of the shuttered windows—and five others, including Christopher Burley, brought powder and ball, and set to work to load spare rifles. The rest were sent back to watch at their posts, lest a counter attack should be made in those directions.

It had all been so sudden, so overwhelming, that I felt dazed as I looked from my loophole into the murky, snow-flecked night. Across the crust, dotted with ghastly forms, the outbuildings loomed vaguely. Behind them hundreds of bloodthirsty redskins lay sheltered; but there was scarcely a sound to be heard save the pitiful whining of the husky dogs who were shut up in the canoe house.

"Fate is against us!" I reflected bitterly. "A few moments ago I believed we could hold out for days—I was confident that we should all escape; and now this black cloud of despair, of death, has fallen upon us! Flora, my darling, I pray Heaven to spare you! God help us to beat the savages off—to save the house!"

Just then I detected a movement in the distance, and I knew too well what it meant. My companions saw it also, and they broke out with warning exclamations:

"Here they come!" "Be ready, boys!" "Give the devils a hot reception!" "Keep the spare muskets handy!"

"Take sharp aim and make every shot tell!" Menzies cried hoarsely. "Fire at those nearest your own side. My God, look yonder—"

His voice was drowned by one blood-curdling screech poured from a hundred throats. Through the driving snow a dusky mass rolled forward, and when it was halfway across the space we made out no less than a score of Indians each shouldering three or four planks of short length. With reckless valor they came on, whooping and yelling defiantly.

"They've taken the cut timber that was stored in the powder house!" cried Carteret. "It's as dry as touchwood and will burn like wildfire!"

"We're lost!" exclaimed Menzies. "There are too many of the fiends; we shall never drive them back!"

"It's our last chance!" I shouted. "Steady, now. Fire!"

Bang! went my musket. Bang! bang! bang! rang other reports. The volley caught the savages at a range of twenty yards and as the smoke drifted up from the loopholes I saw the foremost, at whom I had aimed, sprawled on the snow. Three or four others were down, and two more dropped quickly. The rest darted on unchecked.

"Again!" I shouted. "Quick, let them have it! All together!"

We snatched spare guns from the men behind us, throwing down our empty weapons, and a second straggling volley of lead and flame blazed from the loopholes. But the smoke partly spoiled our aim, and the interval gave the redskins a terrible advantage. Half of them dashed on, under our very guns, and right up to the wall of the house, and the next instant we heard an ominous sound—the thump and clatter of the dried timbers as they fell against the logs.

"That's our death knell!" cried Menzies. "Heaven help us now! We are lost!"

Heaven help us indeed! That there was no hope save for the intervention of Providence, every man of us knew. Some cursed their hard fate, and some shrieked threats and imprecations. Others seized the guns as fast as the relief men could load them, and fired at the now retreating savages, who went back with more caution than they came; for they first crept along the base of the wall to the left angle, and then darted over the crust in zigzag fashion toward the outbuildings, where their comrades were howling and whooping with triumph.

"Two down!" cried Captain Rudstone.

"And one for me!" exclaimed Carteret.

I watched for a moment, but no more Indians appeared. The rest had escaped to shelter, and they must have been few in number; for I could count eight bodies lying about in the falling snow, amid scattered strips of planking, and four wounded wretches were trying to crawl away. Their attempt had succeeded, but at a terrible cost of life. With a gesture of despair. I turned round.

"Have they all gone back?" I asked.

"I think so," Menzies replied huskily. "They will rush us again directly, and fire the bedding and the wood. It's all up with us!"

Crack! A gun spoke shrilly from a loophole on the right, and Baptiste's voice shouted with elation:

"Bonne! bonne! another redskin! He ran out from beneath the window! He is dead now—I shot him in the back!"

"But why did he stay behind the rest?" Menzies asked suspiciously.

"To light the fire!" cried Carteret. "My comrades, it is Heaven's will that we perish!"

The old voyageur was right. As he spoke he pointed with one band to the loopholes. We saw a red glare spreading farther and farther across the trampled snow crust, and heard a hissing, crackling noise. The dead Indian had ignited the heaped-up material, probably by means of flint and steel.

The flames leaped higher, throwing ruddy reflections yards away. They roared and sang as they devoured the inflammable mattresses, stuffed with straw, and laid hold of the dry timbers piled above. They spat showers of sparks, turned the falling snowflakes to specks of crimson, and drove curls of thick yellow smoke into the room through the chinks of the now burning logs. The house was doomed, and we who were caught there in the meshes of death, fated to perish by agonizing torture, looked at one another with white faces and eyes dilated by horror, with limbs that trembled and lips that could not speak. Outside, across the inclosure, the hordes of savages shrieked and yelled with the voices of malicious demons. From the hall, from the rooms beyond it, the rest of our little band came running in panic to learn the worst and share our misery.

Christopher Burley fell on his knees and clasped his hands in prayer.

"O, God, save us!" he cried. "Let me live to see London again."

"The fire is just to the left of the window," exclaimed Captain Rudstone. "If we had water—"

"There's only one small cask in the house," interrupted Carteret, "and if we had plenty we could do nothing. Fifty bullets would enter by the window the moment the shutter was opened."

With terrible rapidity the flames spread, roaring like a passage of a wind storm through treetops. Out in the snow it was as light as day, and one could have counted the streaks of paint on the faces of the dead savages by the awful red glare. The chinks between the logs were flickering lines of fire, and the smoke puffed through so thickly as to make us cough and choke, and fill our smarting eyes with water. The heat grew intense, and drops of perspiration rolled down our cheeks.

Crack! crack—crack—crack! The Indians suddenly began to fire at the loopholes, which were now distinctly outlined against the flame-lit wall. By twos and threes the guns went off, blending with a din of whooping voices, and the bullets pattered like hail. Menzies spun around and clutched at his right arm, which was bleeding above the elbow. A ball whizzed by my ear and another struck Dr. Knapp just between the eyes; he fell with a crash and lay quite still.

It was clear that the savages had the range of the loopholes, and with one accord we fled from the room, taking the powder canisters with us. In the hall a candle was burning on a shelf, and by the dim glow I saw Mrs. Menzies and Flora coming hurriedly down the stairs.



CHAPTER XXIX.

THE SECRET OF THE FACTOR'S DESK.

I shrank from the encounter. The sight of the fair girl whom I loved so passionately made me a coward, and I felt that I could not speak the words of her doom and mine. So I lurked to one side while Mrs. Menzies rushed up to her husband and clutched him hysterically.

"The house is on fire!" she cried. "The smoke drove us downstairs, and—Oh, you are shot!"

"A mere flesh wound," Menzies answered huskily. "Tie it up for me with a strip of your skirt."

With trembling fingers she obeyed.

"The worse, Andrew!" she pleaded—"tell me the worst! I am a brave woman; I can bear it."

I did not hear Menzies' reply, for he quickly led his wife into a darkened room adjoining; but I had a glimpse of his face, and it seemed to have aged years in the last minute.

"Denzil!"

I recognized Flora's voice, and turning, I found her at my elbow. Her cheeks were white, except for a burning red spot in the middle of each. Her lovely eyes gazed into mine with a look of deepest affection, of heart-rending fear that she could not disguise.

"Come!" I whispered hoarsely.

I drew her past the little group of men to the far end of the hall, where the staircase screened us from the light of the candle. How to begin, what to say, I did not know. With one arm about her slender form, I pressed kisses on her lips and forehead.

"My darling!" I cried. "Oh, the pity of it—the pity of it!"

"Then it is true, Denzil?" she asked in faltering tones. "Don't deceive me at such a time. Is there really no hope?"

It would have been worse than folly to speak false words of comfort now, and with an effort I answered:

"No; all hope is gone. You must know the worst, my darling! We have but a little while to live. Heaven has deserted us. Oh, God, that it should be my lot to tell you this!" She crept closer to me, hiding her face on my breast. For nearly a minute she was still, while confusion and clamor, Indian yells, and musketry fire reigned round us. I could feel the agitated heaving of her bosom, the throbbing of her heart. Then she looked up at me bravely, with a sublime expression in her tear-dimmed eyes that brought to my mind the Christian martyrs of old.

"God is love and mercy, dearest Denzil," she said. "If it is His will that we die we must submit. We will find in heaven the happiness that is denied us on earth."

"It is a cruel, cruel fate!" I cried fiercely. "I would suffer ten deaths to save you—"

"It is better thus," she interrupted. "We shall not be separated! Promise me, Denzil, that you will not let the Indians take me alive!"

I tried to speak, but a sob choked my utterance. I nodded assent, and just then my name was called from the other end of the hall. I kissed Flora and led her forward, putting her in the care of Mrs. Menzies. The men were standing about in groups, some talking, some nervously loading guns, and others staring vacantly at the floor.

"We are considering what we had better do," said Captain Rudstone, "and we want your opinion, Carew. If we stick to the house it means death for all of us by suffocation or by flames. If we sally out there is a possibility that one or more of us may break through and escape."

"No chance of that," Carteret answered bluntly. "The devils will be ready for us, and we shall be hemmed in and butchered to a man. I prefer to die fighting myself; but think of the women! Suffocation will be the easiest fate for them."

I made no reply, for I did not know what to say—what alternative to choose. It was a horrible prospect either way, and I contemplated it with rage and despair, with such a whirl in my brain that I thought I should go mad. The musketry fire was dwindling a little, but the whooping and yelling of the exultant savages suddenly rose to a higher pitch, making such a din that the voices of my companions were quite drowned.

There was still an interval of time left in which to reach a decision—perhaps half an hour. By then, at the most, the house would be a furnace in which nothing could live. As yet owing to the snow on the roof, the flames were confined to the south side. But there they had eaten through the wall, and were roaring and crackling with fury as they devoured the thick beams and timbers. They had seized both angles of the house, and were licking their way into the room. We could see the ruddy glare under the closed door, and could feel the scorching heat. From cracks and crevices puffs of yellow smoke darted into the hall; had a wind been blowing in our direction we should have been suffocated long before.

"Shall we stay here to perish like trapped beasts?" cried Andrew Menzies, his voice ringing above the infernal clamor of the savages. "Let us unbar the door, rush out, and sell our lives dearly! Take your muskets, my brave fellows! We will fight to the death, and kill as many of the devils as we can. And if no merciful bullets reach the women, we will shoot—them—with our—own—"

He could say no more. He stood with his hands clasped and his lips moving in prayer, while the men, almost unanimously shouted eager approval of his plan.

"Make ready, all!" cried Captain Rudstone, "we must be quick about it, for at any moment the heat or a spark may touch off the powder in yonder back room."

That the explosion might come that instant, and so insure us a speedy and merciful death, was my heartfelt wish as I leaned against the wall. I groaned aloud as I pictured Flora lying in the snow, her beautiful face and hair dabbled with blood. Just then a bullet, fired through a loophole at one side of the door, whistled within an inch of my ear. It gave me such a start that I lost my balance and reeled against an old desk of the factor's that stood under the shelf holding the candle. It yielded, and we came to the floor together.

I picked myself up and saw the desk broken open and a number of loose papers scattered at my feet. A word on one of them arrested my attention. I reached for it—it was a yellow document, faded with age, once folded—and on the outside, scrawled in big letters with a quill, I read the following:

"PLAN OF A SECRET PASSAGE FROM FORT ROYAL, 1762."

I fairly held my breath as I tore the paper open. Inside was a rude drawing that I recognized at a glance, and more writing below it. The latter I studied for a moment, and then my head turned dizzy with joy.

"Hurrah!—hurrah!" I cried, waving the precious paper in the air. "Thank God for His wonderful mercy! If this proves true we are saved—saved!"

My companions crowded round me excitedly, some thinking that I had suddenly taken leave of my senses.

"What is it?" they demanded. "What do you mean, Carew?"

"Look, look!" I shouted. "A secret passage from the fort—an underground exit built years ago—leading from the cellar to the very bank of the river! It opens from the east wall; the stone is marked with a cross!"

The paper was quickly passed from hand to hand, studied and read. The scene that followed—the transition from blackest despair to radiant hope—I am utterly unable to describe. Indeed, I saw but little of the behavior of the men. I ran to Flora, clasping her in my arms, and we mingled our tears of happiness together.

"Listen, men!" shouted Andrew Menzies. "I fully believe that this document is to be relied upon—that the passage exists. There was a rumor years ago that one of the forts was so provided when it was built, and that the tunnel was not repeated afterward on account of the vast labor; but I did not suspect it to be Fort Royal. Griffith Hawks alone knew the secret, and he died with it untold. We will proceed at once to verify this good news; there is not a moment to spare. Denzil, you and Captain Rudstone will come with me."

He turned to the others.

"There is much to be done," he added, "and it must be done quickly. Load a sledge with provisions, and get others ready for the wounded who are unable to walk. Let each may take a supply of powder and ball, and put on snowshoes. Helen, do you and Miss Hatherton prepare for a long and tiresome march."

There was, indeed, no time to be wasted. The entire side of the house was a mass of flames, and the hall was so scorching hot, so filled with smoke, as to be almost unendurable. The Indians were in a cordon around us, whooping at the top of their voices, firing occasional shots, and evidently expecting that the flames would drive us to meet death in the open.

Leaving the rest to execute Menzie's orders—Carteret volunteered to fetch the women their outdoor wraps from upstairs—the three of us procured a lantern and gained access to the cellar from the room at the end of the hall. Assisted by the plan, we quickly found on the east wall, a big square slab of stone marked by a faint cross.

"Here we are!" exclaimed Menzies. "Try to pry it out with axes."

Two minutes of work sufficed. The stone fell inward, and we shouted with delight when we saw a yawning black hole before us, large enough for two stooping men to walk abreast. Captain Rudstone hurried upstairs with the glad news, and meanwhile Menzies and I ventured some distance into the passage, finding the air sweet and pure.

When we returned to the mouth all of our little party were assembled in the cellar, each man—and the women as well—carrying a pair of snowshoes. Flora and Mrs. Menzies were protected against the bitter weather by furred cloaks. Of the five wounded men one had died within the hour; the other four were able to hobble along temporarily with some assistance. For transporting these when we were safely away from the fort we had two sledges, not counting the one laden with food supplies.

As yet the redskins did not suspect that they were in danger of being cheated of their triumph; we could hear their frenzied cries faintly. Overhead the flames were roaring and hissing, and the cellar itself was hazy with pungent smoke.



CHAPTER XXX.

A STRANGE DISCOVERY.

"All ready?" exclaimed Menzies. "Then forward. If no mishap occurs we shall be miles away before our escape is discovered."

He entered the passage first, flashing the lantern in front of him, and the others followed in double file. Captain Rudstone and I, who came last, took the precaution to replace the slab of stone as we had found it.

It was a strange experience to thread that underground corridor, built with herculean toil, when the fort was reared, for just such an emergency as it was serving now. We had to stoop low to avoid the raftered roof. The air was close, and not a sound reached us from outside. We groped along in semi-darkness for the lantern cast no light behind. It gave one a ghastly oppressive feeling of being buried alive.

The tunnel seemed longer than it really was. We were certain over and over again that we had passed under the fort yard and the outer clearing, yet still we went on. But at last Menzies stopped, and called in a low voice that he had come to the end. Captain Rudstone and I made our way up to him, and saw that further progress was barred by a slab of rock that fitted exactly across the passage.