last sentence I scarcely heard, for I had already left the loophole
and was scrambling down the ladder. The next instant I was at the double
gates, one of which had been unbarred and thrown wide open. A dozen men
were lined up on each side of the entrance, among them Menzies and the
factor.

"Stand back," Griffith Hawke shouted at me. "Keep the way clear!"

But I edged up to the front, where my view was uninterrupted. How my
heart leaped to see the sledge gliding over the snow, the man inside and
the one on snowshoes shouting at the plucky, galloping dogs! But they
still had one hundred and fifty yards to come, not far behind them,
whooping and yelling, firing musket and hurling tomahawks, were at least
two score of redskins--the most of them on snowshoes. Crack, crack,
crack! They seemed to be aiming poorly, for the sledge swept on, dogs
and men uninjured.

"Be ready!" cried the factor: "make room there! The moment the sledge
dashes in let the red devils have a volley--muskets and howitzer!"

What happened next, though it was all over in the fraction of a minute,
was intensely exciting and tragic. The tower being high up, the men
posted there were now opening fire; lusty cheers rose as we saw a couple
of Indians go down in the snow.

Bang, bang! a hit this time. The man on snowshoes staggered, reeled,
fell over. His comrade turned and shot as the sledge swept on--more than
that he could not do. Whether the poor fellow was dead or living we
never knew; but nothing mattered the next instant, for the foremost
savages reached the spot, and there was the quick gleam of a descending
tomahawk.

Fifty yards now to the stockade! In spite of the fire from the tower,
the Indians bore on. They let drive another straggling volley, and with
a convulsive spring in air, the leading dog of the team dropped dead. In
a trice the rest of the dogs, pulled up abruptly, were in a hopeless
tangle. The sledge dashed into them, grated sidewise, and tipped over,
sending its occupant sprawling on the snow.

I gave the poor fellow up for lost, but his pluck and wits were equal to
the emergency. He sprang to his feet, and without looking behind him or
stopping to pick up his musket, he struck out for the fort. On he sped,
running in a zigzag course, while the now halted Indians blazed away at
him, and our men cheered and shouted.

"Watch sharp!" cried Griffith Hawke.

As he spoke the fugitive swerved a little, and ten strides brought him