se, they fired it point-blank
into the mass of savages who were coming on to the assault. At the same
moment a swivel gun roared a few yards to the left, and the two
tremendous reports were followed by shrill yells of agony and
consternation.

This appeared to check the rush from without, and of a sudden the top of
the stockade showed empty against the skyline. Seeing this, we took
heart, and attacked the savages who were inside more furiously than
ever. Just then we were joined by half a dozen men from the
watch-tower and by four others led by Griffith Hawke. The redskins
wavered, fell back, and bolted in panic for their lives. Ten of them we
shot down or clubbed, and as many succeeded in scrambling over the
stockade. It had been a close shave, but the fort was saved for the
present.

"Blaze away, or they'll be in again!" cried the factor. "Give them a
steady volley!"

With ringing cheers we sprang to the loopholes, and fired as fast as we
could load and empty. A vigorous fusillade was returned at first, but it
soon slackened and straggled, and the whooping of the savages ceased
entirely.

It was the same on the north side of the fort. The Indians had not
retreated, but they were repulsed and disheartened, and were in no mood
for further sacrifice. They lay hidden behind drifted snow and stumps,
taking wary shots whenever they fancied they saw an opportunity.

Now we had time to breathe--time to take a welcome spell of rest after
our hard struggle. We were all parched and powder grimed, and some of us
were bandaging slight wounds. And the victory had cost us dear. Three
sorely-hurt men had been carried off to the hospital, and among the
dozen or more slain savages who lay in ghastly attitudes on the
trampled, blood-soaked snow were four of our plucky defenders, who would
never lift musket again. It was a hideous, revolting sight, and the
raging storm, the murky gray of the night, lent an added horror to it.

The semi-lull continued, and little attention was paid to the straggling
fire of the Indians, though sharp eyes were watching from the tower.
Griffith Hawke came up to where I was leaning, breathing hard, on the
barrel of my musket.

"Thank God you are all right, my boy!" he said hoarsely. "I never
expected those devils would get over the stockade. It was Heaven's mercy
that enabled us to drive them off; but we have lost heavily."

"Severely, indeed," I assented. "And so have the Indians. I doubt if
they