-Etherington, Major
of the Forty-sixth--pushed his head and shoulders through he opening
and stared across the leads, panting, with triumphant jolly face.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE FORT SURRENDERS.

The red-coats, who had forced their way up the tower by weight of
numbers and at the point of the bayonet, were now ordered to face
about and clear the stairway; which they did, driving the mixed
rabble of Canadians and Indians down before them, and collecting the
dead and wounded as they went. Five of the Oneidas had been
bayoneted or trampled to death in the struggle; two of the garrison
would never fight again, and scarcely a man had escaped cuts or
bruises.

But Diane, as she followed her father's body down the stairs, knew
nothing of this. The dead and wounded had been removed. The narrow
lancet windows let in a faint light, enough to reveal some ugly
stains and splashes on the walls; but she walked with fixed unseeing
eyes. Once only on the way down her foot slid on the edge of a
slippery step, and she shivered.

In the sunlight outside the doorway a group of men, mauled and
sullen, some wearing bandages, others with blood yet trickling down
their faces, stood listening to an altercation between M. Etienne and
a couple of spick-and-span British officers. As their Commandant's
body came through the doorway they drew together with a growl.
Love was in that sound, and sorrow, and helpless rage. One or two
broke into sobs.

The British officers--one of them was the General himself, the other
his messenger, Captain Muspratt--bared their heads. M. Etienne,
checked in the midst of an harangue, stepped to Diane and took her
hand tenderly.

She gazed slowly around on the group of battered men. There was no
reproach in her look--Had she not failed as miserably as they?--and
yet it held a word of injustice. She could not know that for her
sake they carried these wounds. And Dominique Guyon, the one man who
could have answered her thoughts, stared savagely at the ground,
offering no defence.

"Dominique Guyon," commanded M. Etienne, "four of you will relieve
these _messieurs_ of their burden. Carry your master to the chapel,
where you will find Father Launoy and Father Joly."

"But pardon me, monsieur," interposed Amherst politely, "my soldiers
will be proud to bear so gallant a foe."

"I thank you "--M. Etienne's bow was stiff and obstinate--"but I
assert again that I still command this fortress, and the