og, for before they had proceeded twenty yards, it was difficult for
the different individuals of the party to distinguish each other in the
vapor.

They had made their little circuit to the left, and were already
inclining again toward the right, having, as Heyward thought, got over
nearly half the distance to the friendly works, when his ears were
saluted with the fierce summons, apparently within twenty feet of them,
of:

"Qui va la?"

"Push on!" whispered the scout, once more bending to the left.

"Push on!" repeated Heyward; when the summons was renewed by a dozen
voices, each of which seemed charged with menace.

"C'est moi," cried Duncan, dragging rather than leading those he
supported swiftly onward.

"Bete!--qui?--moi!"

"Ami de la France."

"Tu m'as plus l'air d'un ennemi de la France; arrete ou pardieu je te
ferai ami du diable. Non! feu, camarades, feu!"

The order was instantly obeyed, and the fog was stirred by the explosion
of fifty muskets. Happily, the aim was bad, and the bullets cut the
air in a direction a little different from that taken by the fugitives;
though still so nigh them, that to the unpractised ears of David and the
two females, it appeared as if they whistled within a few inches of the
organs. The outcry was renewed, and the order, not only to fire again,
but to pursue, was too plainly audible. When Heyward briefly explained
the meaning of the words they heard, Hawkeye halted and spoke with quick
decision and great firmness.

"Let us deliver our fire," he said; "they will believe it a sortie, and
give way, or they will wait for reinforcements."

The scheme was well conceived, but failed in its effects. The instant
the French heard the pieces, it seemed as if the plain was alive with
men, muskets rattling along its whole extent, from the shores of the
lake to the furthest boundary of the woods.

"We shall draw their entire army upon us, and bring on a general
assault," said Duncan: "lead on, my friend, for your own life and ours."

The scout seemed willing to comply; but, in the hurry of the moment, and
in the change of position, he had lost the direction. In vain he turned
either cheek toward the light air; they felt equally cool. In this
dilemma, Uncas lighted on the furrow of the cannon ball, where it had
cut the ground in three adjacent ant-hills.

"Give me the range!" said Hawkeye, bending to catch a glimpse of the
direction, and then instantly moving onward.

Cri