o a chair, he sat
there trembling, his face buried in his hands. Father Cleary was
crossing himself and muttering piously.

"A thing like this," cried Captain Rudstone, "is enough to turn a man
into a fiend. By Heaven! Hawke, if you say the word, I'll lead a party
out against the savages!"

But the factor did not seem to hear him. He was leaning heavily on a
chair, his face the hue of ashes. "My fault--my fault!" he said
hoarsely. "I sent the poor fellows to their death. But God knows I
believed they would get through safely!"

"We all believed that," broke in Andrew Menzies.

"Compose yourself, sir! No blame can possibly attach to you."

Meanwhile Baptiste had been standing in the same attitude. I sharply
bade him close the door, and he did so. Then he stepped forward, tossed
the reeking scalps on the table, and with a shaking hand helped himself,
unbidden, to a stiff glass of rum.

"You need not have brought those hideous things here," said I.

"I did not come for that alone, Monsieur Carew," he replied. "I was sent
with a message. The Indians intend shortly to attack. It will be well to
prepare."

"We are all ready," exclaimed Griffith Hawke, roused from his dejection
by this intelligence. "But what do you mean, my man? Why do the sentries
look for an attack?"

"Sir, the Indians have been making strange signals," Baptiste answered,
"and they were seen from the loopholes and the tower creeping along the
edge of the timber in force."

"The warning is timely," said Captain Rudstone. "If the savages are
prowling about it means mischief, otherwise they would be rigging up a
camp against this bitter weather. And no doubt they reckon the storm
will be to their advantage, since the driving snow thickens the air."

The rest of us were of the same mind, and to a man we thirsted for a
chance to avenge the foul murder of the two voyageurs. We eagerly donned
our fur coats and caps, and began to examine our weapons.

"Mr. Menzies, will you speak to the women before you go," said the
factor. "Tell them not to be alarmed if they hear firing--that there is
no danger."

"And perhaps they will take consolation from your company, Father
Cleary," he added, when Menzies had left the room.

The priest was wrapping himself in furs, and before replying he took his
musket from a rack over the fireplace.

"If the women folk need me, I will not refuse," he said quietly. "I am a
man of peace first, but I can fight when occasio