ave
halted in perplexity.

Suddenly she moved forward a little, and with that I was in pursuit, my
heart beating fast. As I overtook her she turned round with a start.

"Denzil!" she gasped.

As I had suspected, it was Flora Hatherton. She was muffled in a cloak,
a fur cap crowned her pretty face, and in her gloved hands she held a
light musket.

"You here!" I exclaimed. "Are you mad, to expose yourself to such
danger? Go back!"

"I don't want to go back," she said. "Please don't make me, Denzil."

"You must," I answered sharply. "Is it possible that Mrs. Menzies
allowed you to do this rash thing?"

"I came without her permission. She thinks I have retired," Flora
replied in a spirited tone. "Let me help to defend the fort, Denzil. I
can fire a gun, and I am not a bit afraid, and it is my duty, I feel
like a coward these brave men fighting and dying."

What could I say? The girl's rashness angered me, but I admired her
pluck and courage. I had never loved her so much as I loved her that
instant--never so fully realized what the barrenness of my life would be
without her. And she was Griffith Hawke's!

"Flora--" I began.

She seemed to divine my feelings, and of a sudden she shrank a little
from me.

"Hush!" she said. "I have been foolish and impulsive, Denzil. I am going
back to Mrs. Menzies."

The mad words were checked on my lips.

"Yes, go!" I answered hoarsely. "Go at once--"

There was the sound of a footfall to one side, and I glanced around to
see the factor. How much he had heard I could only surmise; but he stood
in silence for a moment, looking from one to the other of us.

"Flora, why are you here?" he asked, and to me his voice seemed cold and
harsh.

"I wanted to help to defend the fort," she answered in faltering tones,
"but Mr. Carew stopped me--"

"I fortunately met Miss Hatherton," I broke in, "and urged her to go
back."

"Quite right," said the factor. "It is not a woman's part to fight. Your
place is in the house, Flora."

Without a word she turned and glided rapidly through the snow. Griffith
Hawke hesitated, and then started to follow her; but he had not made two
steps when a cry rang loudly from the northeast watch-tower:

"The redskins are coming! The clearing is alive with them! Every man to
his post!"

The alarm was not a false one, for immediately a fiendish clamor and
whooping broke out and scores of musket shots blended in a rattling din.
The attack seemed to be