l
service."

"The savages have fled?"

"'Twas short, and sweet, Madame, and those who failed to fly are lying
yonder."

"Yet some among you are hurt?"

"Barbeau hath an ugly wound--ay, bear him along, lads, and have the
cut looked to--but as for the rest of us, there is no serious harm
done."

I was gazing at De Artigny, and marked how he held one hand to his
side.

"And you, Monsieur; you are unscathed?"

"Except for a small wound here, and a head which rings yet from savage
blows--no more than a night's rest will remedy. Come, Madame 'tis time
we were within, and the gates closed."

"Is there still danger then? Surely now that we are under protection
there will be no attack?"

"Not from those we have passed, but 'tis told me there are more than a
thousand Iroquois warriors in the valley, and the garrison has less
than fifty men all told. It was luck we got through so easily. Ay,
Boisrondet, we are ready."

That was my first glimpse of the interior of a frontier fort, and,
although I saw only the little open space lighted by a few waving
torches, the memory abides with distinctness. A body of men met us at
the gate, dim, indistinct figures, a few among them evidently soldiers
from their dress, but the majority clothed in the ordinary garb of the
wilderness. Save for one Indian squaw, not a woman was visible, nor
did I recognize a familiar face, as the fellows, each man bearing a
rifle, surged about us in noisy welcome, eagerly questioning those who
had gone forth to our rescue. Yet we were scarcely within, and the
gates closed, when a man pressed his way forward through the throng,
in voice of authority bidding them stand aside. A blazing torch cast
its red light over him, revealing a slender figure attired in frontier
garb, a dark face, made alive by a pair of dense brown eyes, which met
mine in a stare of surprise.

"Back safe, Boisrondet," he exclaimed sharply, "and have brought in a
woman. 'Tis a strange sight in this land. Were any of our lads hurt?"

"None worth reporting, Monsieur. The man they carried was a soldier of
M. de la Durantaye. He was struck down before we reached the party.
There is an old comrade here."

"An old comrade! Lift the torch, Jacques. Faith, there are so few left
I would not miss the sight of such a face."

He stared about at us, for an instant uncertain; then took a quick
step forward, his hand outstretched.

"Rene de Artigny!" he cried, his joy finding expression i