Pa, Kaskisoon!" cried Jean then. The last of Thoreau's men had darted
back into the house. Three of their number they had carried in their
arms. A fourth stumbled and fell across the threshold. "Pa! We have
done. Quick--kistayetak!"

He darted back over their trail, followed by the Cree. There would be
no truce now! It was WAR. He was glad that he had come with Kaskisoon.

Two hundred yards back in the forest they met Philip and Adare at the
head of their people.

"They were coming to ambush us when we entered the clearing!" shouted
Jean. "We drove them back. Four fell under our bullets. The place is
still full of the devils, M'sieur!"

"It will be impossible to rush the doors," cried Philip, seeing the
gathering madness in John Adare's face. "We must fight with caution,
Mon Pere! We cannot throw away lives. Divide our men. Let Jean take
twelve and you another twelve, and give Kaskisoon his own people. That
will leave me ten to batter in the doors. You can cover the windows
with your fire while we rush across the open with the one log. There is
no need for two."

"Philip is right," added the Missioner in a low voice. "He is right,
John. It would be madness to attempt to rush the place in a body."

Adare hesitated for a moment. His clenched hands relaxed.

"Yes, he is right," he said. "Divide the men."

Fifteen minutes later the different divisions of the little army had
taken up their positions about the clearing. Philip was in the centre,
with eight of the youngest and strongest of the forest men waiting for
the signal to dash forward with the log. First, on his right, was Jean
and his men, and two hundred yards beyond him the master of Adare,
concealed in a clump of thick spruce, Kaskisoon and his braves had
taken the windfalls on the left.

As yet not a man had revealed himself to Thoreau and his band. But the
dogs had scented them, and they stood watchfully in front of the long
log building, barking and whining.

From where he crouched Philip could see five windows. Through these
would come the enemy's fire. He waited. It was Jean who was to begin,
and draw the first shots. Suddenly the half-breed and his men broke
from cover. They were scattered, darting low among the boulders and
bush, partly protected and yet visible from the windows.

Philip drew himself head and shoulders over his log as he watched. He
forgot himself in this moment when he was looking upon men running into
the face of death. In ano