and nearer. There was a tense feeling in the air, as though
an electric cloud hovered over all.

Charles went about with a strange look upon his face.

"He is there--he is coming. We shall meet!" he kept repeating; and
all through that night there was no sleep for him--he wandered
about like a restless spirit. No service was demanded of him. He
was counted as one whose mind wanders. Yet in the hour of battle
none could fight with more obstinate bravery than Charles Angell.

"Fire! fire! fire!"

It was Charles's voice that raised the cry in the dead of the
night. No attack had been made upon the fort; but under cover of
darkness the enemy had crept nearer and nearer to the outlying
buildings, and tongues of flame were shooting up.

Instantly the guns were turned in that direction, and a fusillade
awoke the silence of the sleeping lake, whilst cries of agony told
how the bullets and shots had gone home.

"Come, Rangers," shouted Rogers, "follow me out and fall upon them!
Drive them back! Save the fort from fire!"

Rogers never called upon his men in vain. No service was too full
of peril for them. Ignorant as they were of the number or power of
their assailants, they dashed in a compact body out of the side
gate towards the place where the glare of the fire illumined the
darkness of the night.

Dark forms were hurrying hither and thither; but the moment the
Rangers appeared with their battle cry, there was an instant rout
and flight.

"After them!" shouted Rogers; and the men dashed over the rough
ground, pursuers and pursued, shouting, yelling, firing--and they
saw that some bolder spirits amongst the Frenchmen had even set
fire to the sloop on the stocks which Rogers had been teaching the
soldiers how to construct.

But in the forefront of the pursuit might be seen one wild, strange
figure with flying hair and fiery eyes. He turned neither to the
right hand nor to the left, but ran on and on in a straight line,
keeping one flying figure ever in view.

The flying figure seemed to know that some deadly pursuit was
meant; for he, too, never turned nor swerved, but dashed on and on.
He gained the frozen lake; but the treacherous, slippery ice seemed
to yield beneath his feet. He had struck the lake at the point
where it was broken up to obtain water for the fort.

A yell of horror escaped him. He flung up his arms and disappeared.

But his pursuer dashed on and on, a wild laugh escaping him as he
saw what