irectly pulling at Mari-anson's petticoat to
get attention.

"De Ingins kill our 'effer," he lamented, in the mongrel speech of the
quarter-breed. "Dey didn't need him; dey have plenty to eat. But dey
kill our 'effer and laugh."

"My cow, is it also killed, Ignace?"

Marianson's neighbors closed around her, unsurprised at her late
arrival, filled only with the general calamity. Old men's pipe smoke
mingled with odors of food; and when the English soldier had satisfied
himself that she belonged to this caldron of humanity, he lifted the
corners of his nose and returned to open air and guard duty.

The fort had been surrendered without a shot, to save the lives of the
villagers, and they were all hurried to the distillery and put under
guard. They would be obliged to take the oath of allegiance to England,
or leave the island. Michael Dousman, yet held in the enemy's camp, was
fiercely accused of bringing the English upon them. No, Marianson could
not go to the village, or even to the dock.

Everybody offered her food. A boat she did not ask for. The high
cobwebby openings of the distillery looked on a blank night sky.
Marianson felt her happiness jarred as the wonderful day came to such
limits. The English had the island. It might be searched for that young
deserter waiting for her help, and if she failed to get a boat, what
must be his fate?

She had entered the west door of the distillery. She found opportunity
to slip out on the east side, for it was necessary to reach the dock
and get a boat. She might risk being scalped, but a boat at any cost she
would have, and one was sent her--as to the fearless and determined
all their desires are sent. She heard the thump of oars in rowlocks,
bringing the relief guard, and with a swish, out of the void of the lake
a keel ran upon pebbles.

So easy had been the conquest of the island, the British regular found
his amusement in his duty, and a boat was taken from the dock to save
half a mile of easy marching. It stood empty and waiting during a lax
minute, while the responsibility of guarding was shifted; but perhaps
being carelessly beached, though there was no tide on the strait, it
drifted away.

Marianson, who had helped it drift, lay flat on the bottom and heard the
rueful oaths of her enemies, forced to march back to the post. There
was no sail. She steered by a trailing oar until lighted distillery and
black cliff receded and it was safe for her to fix her scull