f them." Her
eyes flashed with the intelligence of war. "Here, quick, I'll take the
tiller. They haven't seen Bissonnette yet; he sits low. Call all hands
on deck--shout! Then, see: Loce will go down the middle hatch, get a
gun, come up with it on his shoulder, and move on to the fo'castle. Then
he'll drop down the fo'castle hatch, get along to the middle hatch, and
come up again with the gun, now with his cap, now without it, now with
his coat, now without it. He'll do that till we've got twenty or thirty
men on deck! They'll think we've been laying for them, and they'll not
come on--you see!"

Tarboe ripped out an oath. "It's a great game," he said, and a moment
afterwards, in response to his roars, Bissonnette came up the hatch with
his gun showing bravely; then again and again, now with his cap, now
without, now with his coat, now with none, anon with a tarpaulin over
his shoulders grotesquely. Meanwhile Tarboe trained his one solitary
little cannon on the enemy, roaring his men into place.

From the tug it seemed that a large and well-armed crew were ranging
behind the bulwarks of the Ninety-Nine. Mr. Martin, the inspector, saw
with alarm Bissonnette's constantly appearing rifle.

"They've arranged a plant for us, Mr. Lafarge. What do you think we'd
better do?" he asked.

"Fight!" answered Lafarge laconically. He wished to put himself on
record, for he was the only one on board who saw through the ruse.

"But I've counted at least twenty men, all armed, and we've only five."

"As you please, sir," said Lafarge bluntly, angry at being tricked, but
inwardly glad to be free of the business, for he pictured to himself
that girl at the tiller--he had seen her as she went aft--in a police
court at Quebec. Yet his instinct for war and his sense of duty impelled
him to say: "Still, sir, fight!"

"No, no, Mr. Lafarge," excitedly rejoined his chief. "I cannot risk it.
We must go back for more men and bring along a Gatling. Slow down!" he
called. Lafarge turned on his heel with an oath, and stood watching the
Ninety-Nine.

"She'll laugh at me till I die!" he said to himself presently, as the
tug turned up stream and pointed for Quebec. "Well, I'm jiggered!" he
added, as a cannon shot came ringing over the water after them. He was
certain also that he heard loud laughter. No doubt he was right; for
as the tug hurried on, Tarboe ran to Joan, hugged her like a bear, and
roared till he ached. Then she paid out the sheet,