d boil the kettle."

It was a very long night. No matter how easily a handle turns, after
a certain number of revolutions there is a stiffness about it. The
stiffness is not in the handle, but in the hand that pushes it.

Round and round, evenly, steadily, minute after minute, hour after hour,
shoving out, drawing in, circle after circle, no swerving, no stopping,
no varying the motion, turn after turn--fifty-five, fifty-six,
fifty-seven--what's the use of counting? Watch the dial; go to
sleep--no! for God's sake, no sleep! But how hard it is to keep awake!
How heavy the arm grows, how stiffly the muscles move, how the will
creaks and groans. BATISCAN! It is not easy for a human being to become
part of a machine.

Fortin himself took the longest spell at the crank, of course. He went
at his work with a rigid courage. His red-hot anger had cooled down into
a shape that was like a bar of forged steel. He meant to make that light
revolve if it killed him to do it. He was the captain of a company that
had run into an ambuscade. He was going to fight his way through if he
had to fight alone.

The wife and the two older girls followed him blindly and bravely, in
the habit of sheer obedience. They did not quite understand the meaning
of the task, the honour of victory, the shame of defeat. But Fortin said
it must be done, and he knew best. So they took their places in turn, as
he grew weary, and kept the light flashing.

And Nataline--well, there is no way of describing what Nataline did,
except to say that she played the fife.

She felt the contest just as her father did, not as deeply, perhaps, but
in the same spirit. She went into the fight with darkness like a little
soldier. And she played the fife.

When she came up from the kitchen with the smoking pail of tea, she
rapped on the door and called out to know whether the Windigo was at
home to-night.

She ran in and out of the place like a squirrel. She looked up at the
light and laughed. Then she ran in and reported. "He winks," she said,
"old one-eye winks beautifully. Keep him going. My turn now!"

She refused to be put off with a shorter spell than the other girls.
"No," she cried, "I can do it as well as you. You think you are so much
older. Well, what of that? The light is part mine; father said so. Let
me turn, va-t-en."

When the first glimmer of the little day came shivering along the
eastern horizon, Nataline was at the crank. The mother and the two o