here the broad river flowed past them. Over near the further bank the
canoes were lurking, and one, manned by ten warriors, attempted to pass
up the stream, but a good shot from the brass gun dashed in her side and
sank her, while a second of grape left only four of the swimmers whose
high scalp-locks stood out above the water like the back-fins of some
strange fish. On the inland side, however, the seigneur had ordered the
cannon to be served no more, for the broad embrasures drew the enemy's
fire, and of the men who had been struck half were among those who
worked the guns.

The old nobleman strutted about with his white ruffles and his clouded
cane behind the line of parched smoke-grimed men, tapping his snuff-box,
shooting out his little jests, and looking very much less concerned than
he had done over his piquet.

"What do you think of it, Du Lhut?" he asked.

"I think very badly of it. We are losing men much too fast."

"Well, my friend, what can you expect? When a thousand muskets are all
turned upon a little place like this, some one must suffer for it.
Ah, my poor fellow, so you are done for too!"

The man nearest him had suddenly fallen with a crash, lying quite still
with his face in a platter of the sagamite which had been brought out by
the women. Du Lhut glanced at him and then looked round.

"He is in a line with no loop-hole, and it took him in the shoulder,"
said he. "Where did it come from then? Ah, by Saint Anne, look there!"
He pointed upwards to a little mist of smoke which hung round the summit
of a high oak.

"The rascal overlooks the stockade. But the trunk is hardly thick
enough to shield him at that height. This poor fellow will not need his
musket again, and I see that it is ready primed." De la Noue laid down
his cane, turned back his ruffles, picked up the dead man's gun, and
fired at the lurking warrior. Two leaves fluttered out from the tree
and a grinning vermilion face appeared for an instant with a yell of
derision. Quick as a flash Du Lhut brought his musket to his shoulder
and pulled the trigger. The man gave a tremendous spring and crashed
down through the thick foliage. Some seventy or eighty feet below him a
single stout branch shot out, and on to this he fell with the sound of a
great stone dropping into a bog, and hung there doubled over it,
swinging slowly from side to side like a red rag, his scalp-lock
streaming down between his feet. A shout of exultatio