arrows or shot, long hair flying
and red doublet alight in the flare of the torches, was standing on top
of the pickets with his right arm waving a sword.

"Whom do you make them out to be, Ramsay?" he called. "Is not yon Le
Borgne?"

I looked to the Indians. Le Borgne it was, thin and straight, like a
mast-pole through mist, in conference with another man--a man with a
beard, a man who was no Indian.

"Sir!" I shouted back. "Those are the inland pirates. They are
leading the Indians against Ben Gillam, and not against us at all."

At that M. Radisson extends a handkerchief on the end of his sword as
flag of truce, and the bearded man waves back. Down from the wall
jumps M. Radisson, running forward fearlessly where Indians lay
wounded, and waving for the enemy to come. But the two only waved back
in friendly fashion, wheeled their forces off, and disappeared through
the frost.

"Those were Ben Gillam's cut-throats trying to do for him! When they
saw us on the walls, they knew their mistake," says M. de Radisson as
he re-entered the gate. "There's only one way to find those pirates
out, Ramsay. Nurse these wounded Indians back to life, visit the
tribe, and watch! After Chouart's re-enforcements come, I'll send you
and Jack Battle, with Godefroy for interpreter!"

To Governor Brigdar and his four refugees M. de Radisson was all
courtesy.

"And how comes Your Excellency to be out so late with ten men?" he
asked, as we supped that night.

"We heard that you were here. We were coming to visit you," stammered
Governor Brigdar, growing red.

"Then let us make you so welcome that you will not hasten away! Here,
Jack Battle, here, fellow, stack these gentlemen's swords and pistols
where they'll come to no harm! Ah! No? But I must relieve you,
gentlemen! Your coming was a miracle. I thank you for it. It has
saved us much trouble. A pledge to the pleasure--and the length--of
your stay, gentlemen," and they stand to the toast, M. de Radisson
smiling at the lights in his wine.

But we all knew very well what such welcome meant. 'Twas Radisson's
humour to play the host that night, but the runaway lieutenant was a
prisoner in our guard-house.

CHAPTER XVI

WE SEEK THE INLANDERS

In the matter of fighting, I find small difference between white-men
and red. Let the lust of conquest but burn, the justice of the quarrel
receives small thought. Your fire-eating prophet cares little for the
ri