n cheered him as he strode soberly up the street, a piece of sheeting
tied to a sapling and flung over his shoulder. Through such humble
agencies are the ends of Providence accomplished. Monsieur Bouton walked
up to the gate, disappeared sidewise through the postern, and we sat down
to breakfast. In a very short time Monsieur Bouton was seen coming back,
and his face was not so impassive that the governors message could not be
read thereon.

"'Tis not a love-letter he has, I'll warrant," said Terence, as the
little man disappeared into the house. So accurately had Monsieur
Bouton's face betrayed the news that the men went back to their posts
without orders, some with half a breakfast in hand. And soon the rank
and file had the message.

"Lieutenant-Governor Hamilton begs leave to acquaint Colonel Clark that
he and his garrison are not disposed to be awed into any action unworthy
of British subjects."

Our men had eaten, their enemy was within their grasp and Clark and all
his officers could scarce keep them from storming. Such was the
deadliness of their aim that scarce a shot came back, and time and again
I saw men fling themselves in front of the breastworks with a war-whoop,
wave their rifles in the air, and cry out that they would have the Ha'r
Buyer's sculp before night should fall. It could not last. Not tuned to
the nicer courtesies of warfare, the memory of Hamilton's war parties, of
blackened homes, of families dead and missing, raged unappeased. These
were not content to leave vengeance in the Lord's hands, and when a white
flag peeped timorously above the gate a great yell of derision went up
from river-bank to river-bank. Out of the postern stepped the officer
with the faded scarlet coat, and in due time went back again, haughtily,
his head high, casting contempt right and left of him. Again the postern
opened, and this time there was a cheer at sight of a man in hunting
shirt and leggings and coonskin cap. After him came a certain Major Hay,
Indian-enticer of detested memory, the lieutenant of him who
followed--the Hair Buyer himself. A murmur of hatred arose from the men
stationed there; and many would have shot him where he stood but for
Clark.

"The devil has the grit," said Cowan, though his eyes blazed.

It was the involuntary tribute. Lieutenant-Governor Hamilton stared
indifferently at the glowering backwoodsmen as he walked the few steps to
the church. Not so Major Hay. His eyes fell. There was