down their defenses. Bullets from rifle and musket were
beating in vain on their wooden wall, and before them came the foe, a
vast, converging mass, a target that no one could miss. They were far
from their own land, deep in the great North American wilderness, but
as they saw it, they fought for the honor and glory of France, and to
keep what was hers. They redoubled their shouts and fired faster and
faster. A great cloud of smoke rose over the clearing and the forest,
but through it the attacking army always advanced, a hedge of bayonets
leading.

Robert saw everything clearly. His heart sank for a moment, and then
leaped up again. Many of his own had fallen, but a great red curve was
advancing. It was the British regulars, the best troops in the charge
that Europe could furnish, and they would surely carry the wooden
wall. As far as he could see, in front and to left and right, their
bayonets flashed in the sun, and a cry of admiration sprang to his
lips. Forward they came, their line even and beautiful, and then the
tempest beat upon them. The entire French fire was concentrated upon
the concave red lines. The batteries poured grape shot upon them and
a sleet of lead cut through flesh and bone. Gaps were torn in their
ranks, but the others closed up, and came on, the American Colonials
on their flanks charging as bravely.

Robert suddenly remembered a vision of his, vague and fleeting then,
but very real now. He was standing here at Ticonderoga, looking at
the battle as it passed before him, and now it was no vision, but the
truth. Had Tayoga's Manitou opened the future to him for a moment?
Then the memory was gone and the terrific drama of the present claimed
his whole mind.

The red lines were not stopped. In the face of awful losses they were
still coming. They were among the trees where the men were entangled
with the boughs or ran upon the wooden spikes. Often they tripped and
fell, but rising they returned to the charge, offering their breasts
to the deadly storm that never diminished for an instant.

Robert walked back and forth in his little space. Every nerve was on
edge. The smoke of the firing was in eye, throat and nostril, and
his brain was hot. But confidence was again supreme. "They'll come!
They'll come! Nothing can stop them!" he kept repeating to himself.

Now the Colonials on the flank pressed forward, and they also advanced
through the lines of the regulars in front and charged with them.
T