y,
"Ah, but it was different weather in those days!"

"Ay," said John, "we have come around by strange roads; you an
artilleryman, and I--" He broke off, musing. For a moment, standing
there knee-deep in snow, he heard the song of the waters, saw the
forests again, the dripping ledges, the cool, pendant boughs, and
smelt the fragrance of the young spruces. The spell of the woodland
silence held him, and he listened again for the rustle of wild life
in the undergrowth.

"Hist! What was that?"

"Another squall coming, sir. It's on us too, and a rasper!"

But, as the snow-charged gust swept down and blinded them in its
whirl, John leaned towards McQuarters and lifted his voice sharply.

"It was more than that--Hark you!" He gripped McQuarters' arm and
pointed to the barricade, over which for an instant a point of steel
had glimmered. "Back, man!--back to the guns!" he yelled to the
sentry. But the man was already running; and together the three
floundered back to the _hangar_. Behind them blows were already
sounding above the howl of the wind; blows of musket-butts hammering
on the wooden palisade.

"Steady, men," grunted McQuarters as he reached the pent. "Give them
time to break an opening--their files will be nicely huddled by
this."

John a Cleeve glanced around and was satisfied. Captain Chabot had
his men lined up and ready: two ranks of them, the front rank
kneeling.

"Give the word, my lad," said Captain Barnsfare cheerfully, lintstock
in hand.

"Fire then!--and God defend Quebec!"

The last words were lost in an explosion which seemed to lift the
roof off the _hangar_. In the flare of it John saw the faces
of the enemy--their arms outstretched and snatching at the palisade.
Down upon them the grape-shot whistled, tearing through the gale it
outstripped, and close on it followed the Canadians' volleys.

Barnsfare had sprung to the second gun. McQuarters nodded to
him. . . .

For ten minutes the guns swept the pass. The flame of them lit up no
faces now by the shivered palisade, and between the explosions came
no cheering from down the road. The riflemen loaded, fired, and
reloaded; but they aimed into darkness and silence.

Captain Chabot lifted a hand.

The squall had swept by. High in the citadel, drums were beating;
and below, down by the waterside to the eastward, volleys of musketry
crackled sharply. But no sound came up the pass of Pres-de-Ville.

"That will be at the Sa