While Mark stood on guard, able to see the entire broad expanse of water, thanks to the light of the moon, he knew that so long as a careful watch was kept the Abenakis could not leave the harbor island secretly; but he also realized that if the clouds should gather, or a fog settle down over the waters, then, of a verity, would they be at the mercy of a foe from whom no mercy could be expected.

The fact that they had been able to resist the first assault did not give him encouragement for the future. The Indians had advanced foolishly, understanding that the white people knew full well what they were about, and after this first repulse it was reasonable to suppose the murderous scoundrels would bring all their cunning into play when the next attack was made.

There were six muskets in the stockade, and ammunition sufficient to last during an ordinary siege, provided none was wasted, yet but three persons—Susan, Luke, and himself—could be depended upon to man the walls. The others would have served faithfully, of that there was no question; but none of them were so expert with a musket as to be counted on for any great execution.

Although the lad would not have admitted as much to either of his companions, the fear in his heart that the enemy might succeed in accomplishing his purpose was very great.

"We can count on it that at the next attack they will succeed in getting inside the palisade," he said, unconsciously giving words to his thoughts, and he started almost in alarm as a familiar voice behind him asked, reproachfully:

"If you lose heart, how can the rest of us be expected to show courage?"

"What are you doing out here, Sue?" he asked, in turn, not minded to answer her question, if it could be avoided.

"I've come to take Luke's place. He is sleeping so soundly that it is a pity to awaken him, and the pain in my arm keeps my eyes open very wide."

"But I haven't been here two hours yet."

"Nearly half that time has passed since you came on duty, and there is no reason why you should remain awake when it's impossible for me to sleep. I can keep a sharp watch."

"So you can, Sue; but it is my place to take the biggest end, and I don't fancy the idea of letting a woman do my work."

"If I could go to sleep it would be different; but since I can't, I shall stay here, therefore you might as well take advantage of the opportunity."

Mark made no move toward leaving the platform, from which he could have a full view of the harbor, and, seeing that he was not disposed to act upon her suggestion, Susan clambered up beside him.

"Now tell me what you meant by saying that the next time they come the Indians will get inside the fence?"

"There's no sense in talking about that. I didn't count on speaking aloud."

"You did, however, and now it will be treating me no more than fairly if you tell me exactly what is in your mind."

Mark had no desire to discuss the situation just then, when it looked very dark to him, and, in order to avoid answering the question, he proposed to take advantage of Susan's proposition.

"Since you are determined to stay here, I may as well get what sleep I can. Call Luke when you are tired," He said, and before she could detain him he had slipped down from the improvised platform, walking rapidly toward the dwelling.

The girl could do guard duty as well as either of her cousins, and was eager to perform a full share of the labor devolving upon those who were striving to hold the savages in check. Perhaps she magnified the pain of her wound in order to be allowed to take Mark's place, and, if such was the case, the defence would be in no wise weakened through her.

Until the first faint light of a new day could be seen did Susan Harding stand on the narrow platform, watching eagerly for any signs of life from the harbor island, and unable to change her position, save by taking two or three paces to the right or left. Even then she would have remained on duty longer, but that Mark came hurriedly out of the house crying, angrily:

"It was not fair for you to stay on watch all night, Sue! You the same as promised to call Luke when you were tired."

"I didn't really agree, and I'm not tired yet. There's no need of your coming up here, for now that it is daylight, Ellen can be trusted to keep a lookout over the island."

"When she has eaten her breakfast I will let her take my place," Mark replied, as he literally forced the girl to descend, and a few moments later all the occupants of the stockade were astir.

The cows were milked, but kept within the enclosure, the young boys feeding and watering them. The hens were allowed to stray here or there at will, and, save for the sentinels on the palisade, one might have thought that the scene presented there represented perfect peace and happiness.

When the morning meal had been prepared, Ellen Harding took Mark's station on the stockade, being enjoined by him to keep her eyes fixed constantly on the harbor island, without heeding what might be happening around her, as the little company gathered in the Pemberton house, where thanks were given for their preservation during the night.

While breakfast was in progress no reference was made to the danger which menaced; it seemed as if the women feared to alarm the younger children, and the three to whom the defence of the island had been committed were not desirous of starting a conversation which might lead up to the possibilities of the future.

Susan was forced to submit to a second treatment of her wound, as soon as the meal had had come to an end, and Mistress Harding peremptorily insisted on her going to bed, since she had not closed her eyes in slumber during the night just passed.

Mistress Pemberton set about melting lead for bullets, the store of missiles being smaller than that of powder, and Mark and Luke went out to make a more thorough examination of the palisade.

"It isn't very likely that the Abenakis will make any move during this day," the elder lad said, "and while Ellen is standing watch it would be wicked to lose any chance of making our position yet more secure."

Luke was ready to act upon his brother's suggestion, but appeared to have no desire for conversation, and Mark did not urge him to talk, for the same reason that had caused him to hold his peace during the breakfast hour.

There was much that had been overlooked during the hurry and excitement of the previous day, which could be done to strengthen the palisade, as, for example, driving stakes at the foot of such posts as were not standing firmly, and securing the tops of others with braces on the inside.

In order to do a portion of this work, it was necessary the lads should go into the thicket for material; but while Ellen remained on watch to give the alarm, in case she saw any signs of life on the harbor island, they did not hesitate to leave the stockade.

It was while they were chopping down small trees in the rear of the dwellings, that the flock of fourteen sheep came in sight, and these Mark decided to drive into the enclosure.

It would be a serious blow to the settlers if these wool-growers should be killed by the enemy, for it might be a difficult task to replace them, and without the fleeces each summer the children would be destitute of materials for clothing.

By catching the leader of the flock, and dragging him along by the horns, the lads had little trouble in getting the animals within the stockade, and Mark announced his success by saying, in a tone of mild triumph:

"The family is all behind one fence now, and unless the Abenakis get inside, they can't do us a great deal of harm."

"But the sheep will pull heavily on our store of hay," Luke suggested, and his brother replied, cheerily:

"They can pick up a good bit around the place, and it won't do any very great harm to let them go hungry now and then. It's better than taking good chances of losing the whole drove."

There was no further discussion as to the advisability of bringing the sheep into the stockade, for at that moment a cry from Ellen caused both the boys to run, with all speed, to her side.

"Look! Look! A vessel! It must be that fishermen are coming here, and now the Indians will be driven away!"

[Illustration: Look! Look! A vessel!]

To their great surprise and delight, the boys saw a small schooner, coming as if from the mainland on the northward, heading directly for the harbor island.

"We're saved, God be thanked!" Mark cried, in a tone so loud as to be heard by the inmates of the house, all of whom came swiftly toward him to learn the cause of the fervent exclamation.

"What is it, my son?" Mistress Pemberton asked, sharply, and Luke shouted, as he pointed seaward:

"A fishing-vessel, mother, and those on board must soon know that the Indians are besieging us!"

"But she appears to be going directly to the harbor island! The crew should be warned, lest the Abenakis make an attack upon them!"

This possibility had not entered Mark's mind; but while his mother was yet speaking he darted out of the stockade, running with all speed to the shore, waving his arms and shouting, to attract the attention of the newcomers.

He was followed by the two families, including Susan, who had been awakened by the joyful cries, and the little party ran swiftly along the beach until they were come to the nearest point of the island, which was the small bluff, or incline, on the westernmost end.

Here it was possible to have in view the schooner's deck, and that their signals had been seen seemed positive, although no attention was taken of them.

"Had you not better pull out in the small boat?" Mistress Pemberton asked of Mark, when the strangers failed to pay any heed to the gestures of warning. "It would be dreadful if the men went on shore and were murdered!"

There seemed to be no reason why the lads should not visit the vessel, and, in fact, such an idea had entered Mark's mind before his mother spoke, but yet he hesitated to act upon her suggestion, although it would have been impossible for him to explain why he remained idle.

"The schooner carries a big crew for a fisherman," Susan said, thoughtfully. "There must be as many as twenty-five or thirty on her deck."

"She's no fisherman!" Mark cried, becoming perplexed as he observed the truth of what Susan had said. "So many people never could work on a craft of that size."

"But what else can she be?" Luke asked, curiously, "I don't know as it makes much difference to us, though, so long as she carries a crew of white people. Why don't we pull out to her, Mark? Look, she's coming to anchor, and if her crew lands without knowing of the Abenakis, they will all be killed!"

"There are the Indians!" Susan cried, as three canoes, filled with savages, were seen putting out from the shore.

"They are going to make an attack on the vessel, and we can do nothing to help the poor people!" Mistress Pemberton cried, in an agony of grief, while an expression of terror overspread Mark's face as he began to have an inkling of the true situation.

"Can't you boys do something to aid the men?" Mistress Harding asked, and Mark replied:

"It isn't likely they're needing any help. Those on the vessel outnumber the Abenakis three to one, and I'm afraid they won't have any trouble in taking care of themselves."

No one save Susan gave any particular heed to Mark's words, but watched with feverish interest as the canoes approached the vessel, and then, when the Indians clambered aboard without any attempt being made to prevent them, the expression of the face of the spectators changed from that of sympathy to perplexity.

"The Abenakis seem to know the fishermen," Mistress Pemberton said to herself, and Mark replied, bitterly:

"Ay, mother, that they do, and now, instead of being called upon to defend ourselves against Indians only, we shall have that crowd of Frenchmen against us!"

"God forbid that white people could attack women and children!" Mistress Harding cried fervently, and Mark added:

"He hasn't forbidden it so far, aunt. Don't you remember what father and uncle heard from those aboard of the last vessel they spoke with? They were told that when Master Peabody and his wife were murdered, there were ten French soldiers with the Indians." 9

"Can it be that they have come to aid the savages against us?" and Mistress Harding's face grew pale.

"Ay, that is the way the French king fights us in this country, and if we are murdered it will be because his agents have decided upon it in revenge for that which was done here so many years ago to the missionaries!"

And now while the little party of besieged stands on the shore facing this new and unexpected peril, suppose we set down that which Mr. Williamson wrote in his "History of Maine."

"A communication was received at Boston in August, 1758, from Brigadier-General Monkton, stationed in Nova Scotia, which stated that a body of Frenchmen, in conjunction with the Indians of the rivers St. John, Penobscot, and probably Passamaquoddy, were meditating an attempt upon the fort at St. Georges, and the destruction of all the settlements on the coast."

"Immediately Governor Pownal collected such a military force as was at command, and embarked with them on board the King George, and the sloop Massachusetts. Arriving, he threw these auxiliaries with some warlike stores into the fort at a most fortunate juncture; for within thirty-six hours after the departure the fort was actually assailed by a body of four hundred French and Indians."

"But so well prepared was the garrison to receive them, that they were unable to make the least impression. Nor did any representations of their numbers, nor any threats, communicated to the fort by a captive woman, whom they purposely permitted to escape hither, occasion the least alarm. Hence, the besiegers gave vent to their resentiments and rage by killing the neighboring cattle, about sixty of which they shot or butchered." 10

It was well for the little families who were so sorely beset that they remained in ignorance of what the French assisted by the Indians of several tribes, were trying to do, otherwise their despair would have been even greater than it was as they watched the reception of the Abenakis by those on board the schooner.

It will never be known whether this attack on Mount Desert was made in revenge for what had been done by Argall to the French missionaries; but certain it was that all the settlements on the coast, large or small, had been marked for destruction under the guise of legitimate warfare.

During five minutes or more, while the besieged watched the movements on the deck of the schooner until there was no longer any question but that the number of their enemies had been largely increased, not a word was spoken, and then Mistress Harding broke the painful stillness by exclaiming:

"There is nothing left us to do but submit! With French soldiers at hand, it is not probable the savages will be allowed to murder their prisoners, and to surrender the island is better than being killed!"

"The French have never done anything toward preventing the Indians from working their will on the helpless captives. Do you remember the story father tells of Falmouth, when these same Frenchmen pledged their words of honor that no blood should be spilled, and yet many of those who surrendered were murdered in cold blood?"

"But what other can we do save give ourselves up?" Mistress Harding cried, helplessly, and Susan stepped proudly by the side of Mark, as he replied, stoutly:

"We can fight to the last, and die with muskets in our hands, instead of going willingly to meet the scalping-knife or the tomahawk. It may be that those on the mainland will learn what is being done here, and come to our relief."

"Do not put faith in such a possibility, my son. It is better to face the worst than build on hopes which must be dashed," and Mistress Pemberton laid her hand on Mark's shoulder as if in pride because of the courage he displayed. "We will do battle against these people, white and red, and when our best has been done, the end will be no worse than if we submitted tamely."

"That's the way to put it!" Mark cried, kissing his mother's hand. "We had planned to defend ourselves against the savages, and now let us see what shall be done since they have had such a large reinforcement. Certain it is that we must not stand here, for they may have muskets aboard the schooner which will carry a ball farther than ours."

Mistress Pemberton led the way back to the stockade, and there, in the open air near the gateway where a close watch might be kept over both the island and the vessel, she commended the little party to the care of Him who watches over even the sparrow's fall.

It was to the distressed company as if the entire situation had been suddenly changed; as if their means of defence were totally inadequate, leaving them to the mercy of the French and Indians, who were making the attack simply because the King of England and the King of France had sundry differences of opinion, which might be settled by spilling the blood of innocent people.

Susan, who had been the most courageous, seemed to have grown timorous when she asked, while she and Mark were where the words could not be overheard:

"What shall we do? Is there any hope we can hold back such a force as is being arrayed against us?"

"It doesn't seem possible, Sue, and yet we must fight to the last, rather than give over our mothers and you girls to what we know will follow if we show the white feather."

"I am not afraid of your ever doing anything of that kind, Mark," and the girl laid her hand on his shoulder with a loving gesture. "You will always be brave and true; but what I am asking is whether we may do anything which, as yet, has not been tried."

"I exhausted all my ideas in arranging for a defence against the Abenakis, and now we must stand up like images, fighting until we are destroyed. Anything is better than tame surrender, when we know by the terrible experiences of others what will follow."

"In that I am of your mind, Mark, dear; but I am asking if there isn't something else, which, as yet, we have neglected, that can be done. Our mothers depend on you, as do I, which is only natural, since you are the eldest, and should of right take your father's place."

"It is just that, Sue dear, which causes me to be afraid of my own ideas. If I make a mistake, it may be fatal to you all, for you will follow my advice."

"That is true, Mark, and yet you should not be timid because of it, for you are best fitted to act the part of leader, and we know full well you will only do that which seems safest."

"Are you agreed that we cannot surrender?" and Mark asked the question in an angry tone, as if expecting she would refuse to view the situation in the same light he did.

"Of course I am. Could I say otherwise after all the stories we have heard from the mainland?"

"Then we must fight?"

"Of course, and to the last. I would rather see mother and the children killed by musket-balls, than to have them fall unharmed into the hands of those who await us there," and she motioned toward the harbor island. "How long can we hold the stockade against such a force?"

"Four and twenty hours, it may be, and a much shorter time if you, or Luke, or I should be killed early in the fight."

"And we will hope that our fathers do not come back until all is over."

"Ay, Sue dear, that is what we must hope, unless we would have them come in time to meet their death. Two more men on the stockade would not greatly prolong the struggle, and I fail to see how they, without other aid, could help us very much."

"If it should be, Mark dear, that I am wounded again, will you see to it that the Indians do not take me prisoner?"

"Ay, Sue, though the moment will be a terrible one when I turn my musket against you; but it shall be done."

"And if you are left until the last you will see that the children are not taken alive?"

"If I am left, Sue dear, it shall be as the last of our families on the island, for I believe death is more pleasant than can be life in the hands of such as those who are counting soon to hold us in their power."

Then the two children kissed each other as if in a last farewell, and Mark, trying to assume a careless air, said, with a feeble attempt at a smile:

"Since you were the last to awaken, it is no more than fair you should be among the first on duty. You, Luke, and I will stand guard alone until the attack is made, as we can count it will be this night, and then our mothers must charge the muskets. Remember, Sue dear, that I haven't yet despaired of holding the whole wicked crew in check. It doesn't seem possible that God would withhold His hand while we are being beaten."

"And yet it has been that many people in this country, whose cause was as just as ours, have been overcome by the same merciless foe who await us."

"Ay, Sue, and since we can only take what comes as stoutly as decent English people should, we'll seem to be brave, however timorous our hearts may become when the last moment is at hand."

Then these two children, striving to fill the places of their parents, began that vigil which both believed would be ended with their death.

Mark made the announcement to his mother and aunt, after the gate had been shut and closely barred, that they and the children should remain in the dwelling until the moment came when they could be of assistance in loading the weapons, and in the meanwhile the task of guarding the stockade would devolve upon his brother, cousin, and himself.

"We are not so much worse off than before, except that many more will come against us," he said, as the women and children went toward the Pemberton house. "We shall fight until the last, and, if God is kind, it may be we can hold the villains in check four and twenty hours, if no more. Get what rest you can, and remember that tears are of no avail when bullets are needed."

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When the women and smaller children were inside the dwelling, Mark said to his companions:

"It is better to have something in the way of work on hand than remain idle, and it has come into my mind that we might improve our condition if we raised the top of the stockade so that we could stand on the platforms without being seen by those outside."

"How would you set about it?" Luke asked, with mild curiosity.

"A heavy timber might be made fast to the top of the palisade, and, by making loopholes between the upper ends of the logs, we would be hidden from view, and at the same time be able to keep watch."

"Do you count that we should go after logs, taking the chances that the enemy will make a landing right away?"

"I intend to go alone, while you and Susan stand guard. Shout if you see a single boat putting off from the harbor island, and then I can get inside the enclosure before the enemy will be able to paddle over here."

Mark did not wait to learn if his companions had any criticism to make on his proposition, but set off in search of the axe without delay, and the others had no choice but to mount guard.

[Illustration: He returned with a heavy log.]

When the lad went through the gate he directed that it be barred behind him, lest there might be Indians in the thicket, and a few moments later it was possible to hear the sound of his sturdy blows as he felled the trees.

In less than half an hour he returned with a heavy log that had been squared on one side, and, after having been given admittance, he laid this on the posts above the platform on which Susan was stationed. By chopping either side of the uprights, close to the top, he made V-shaped apertures of sufficient size to admit of a musket-barrel being thrust through, thus forming five or six loopholes for the sentinel.

Therefore it was one could remain on the platform without being exposed to view of the enemy directly in front, and such shelter would be of great value to the defenders while the attacking party was a short distance away.

By means of wooden pins Mark secured the log in place, although not very firmly, and the three children who were to defend the stockade believed their position had been decidedly strengthened by such a device.

Another hour was spent in felling trees, fitting the timbers, and putting them in place. Then Mark occupied himself with making a careful examination of every portion of the palisade, after which, he said, with a long-drawn sigh:

"I can think of nothing else that is likely to improve the defences, and it only remains to wait until the enemy is ready to begin operations. What has been done aboard the schooner?"

"Many of the men have gone ashore on the harbor island," Luke replied. "The sails are furled, and everything snugged down as if for a long stay."

"Have you seen the Abenakis?"

"Two or three of them yet remain aboard the schooner; but the larger number are on shore."

Then Mark clambered up on one of the platforms, straining his eyes to learn what the strangers were doing with the hope of being able to make some guess as to when another attack would be made; but in this last he was unsuccessful. The men were lounging on the vessel, or ashore, as if their only purpose was to pass the time pleasantly, and utterly heedless as to whether they were seen by those inside the stockade.

"Whoever is in command of the Frenchmen will direct the next assault," Mark said, sufficiently loud to be heard by his companions at their several posts of duty. "It is known that we count on defending ourselves, and we may expect to see the entire force before us within the coming ten or twelve hours."

"What about the powder?" Luke asked.

"We have none too much; but enough, I believe, if we are careful in making every shot count, to last us during two assaults. After that, if we're alive, there'll be a short allowance."

"A boat is putting off from the schooner, and heading this way," Susan announced, and the boys gave no further heed as to speculations regarding the future, for it seemed as if the enemy was about to begin operations.

In a very short time, however, it could be understood that there was no danger of an immediate attack, for the craft coming shoreward from the vessel was a canoe in which were but three men.

The sentinels were unable to understand the meaning of this movement. It did not seem probable the enemy counted on boldly reconnoitering the island, nor was it reasonable to suppose any attack was to be made with so small a force, and Mark said, in perplexity:

"I can't make out why they are coming; but we'll be ready for whatever turn affairs may take."

"Shall we fire on them if they get too near?" Susan asked.

"Unless they claim to be friends, which isn't likely, we'll treat them exactly as we would the Abenakis, if they were bold enough to land in broad day," Mark replied, and, as assurance of his intentions, he made certain his musket was ready for immediate use.

The strangers paddled directly toward the spot where were kept the boats of the settlers, beached the canoe, and straightway approached the stockade, as friends might have done.

The three children on guard watched the newcomers curiously, until they were within fifty or sixty paces of the gate, and then Mark hailed:

"It will be safer to halt where you are until we understand the reason for this visit," he cried, showing himself above the palisade, with musket in hand.

"Are you in command of the stockade?" one of the visitors asked, as all three came to a full stop.

"Ay, for the time being."

"How many have you in garrison?" one of the newcomers asked, as he advanced a single pace, to show that he was authorized to act as spokesman for his party.

"That is for you to find out," Mark replied, with a smile. "You must take us for simples, if it is in your mind that we will give all the information demanded."

"I did not ask to gain information, for we know exactly the number of women and children here. I desired that you yourself should state it in order to the better understand how entirely you are at our mercy," The man said, and his manner of speech told that he was French.

"I do not need to repeat it, having seen your force, and knowing my own full well."

"Then you can understand that when I offer good quarter if you surrender without resistance, it should do away with any necessity for a conflict."

"Are you ready to give the same quarter your people promised at Falmouth, when the defenceless prisoners were murdered by you Frenchmen?" Mark cried, angrily.

"I give you my word of honor as a soldier, than no one shall be harmed if you surrender this place immediately," the officer replied, sharply.

"If I have heard rightly, the Baron de Castine gave the same pledge at Falmouth, and afterward excused himself by saying that he could not restrain the Indian allies," Mark said, stoutly. "Since then it is difficult to believe that French officers have any too much honor; otherwise, perhaps, they would not fight side by side with savages."

"Do you refuse to surrender?" the visitor asked, angrily.

[Illustration: Do you refuse to surrender?]

"Ay, that I do, and all here are of the same mind with me. It is better to die fighting than be put to the torture by your allies, whom, mayhap, you could not restrain."

"My force is so large that you will be crushed in a twinkling, and, if you resist, no mercy may be expected. I have come in the effort to save your lives."

"Why should it be necessary?" Mark asked. "What have we done that you strive to take possession of our homes?"

"That is not a question to be discussed," the officer replied, impatiently. "It is my intention to clear this island of settlers, and I hope at such time to aid you."

"It is a brave piece of business to wait until our fathers have gone away, and then come here to fight women and children!" Susan cried, sharply. "Are all French officers so valiant?"

It was impossible for the visitor to see the speaker; but he knew from the voice that the words were uttered by a girl, and his face reddened, as he bit his lip to hold back a retort.

"I offer you good quarter, and to that pledge my word, if you submit at once," he said, after a brief pause. "In case you are so foolish as to dream of holding out against us, much loss of blood must ensue."

"That is bound to come," Mark replied, gravely. "We are resolved to hold this stockade as long as there is one left alive to fire a musket, and when you succeed in the noble work of murdering women and children, there will be none left alive for the savages, your very good friends, to torture."

"And that is your last word?" the officer asked, half-turning on his heel.

"The last," Mark replied.

The Frenchman stood irresolutely while one might have counted ten, and then, wheeling about, he marched toward the shore, looking back from time to time as if believing the young defenders might repent of having given such an answer.

"We have shut off all chance of making a bargain with them," Luke said, half to himself, and Susan replied, stoutly:

"It would have shamed me had Mark treated with them! Why should they offer us quarter? We have done nothing to warrant their making an attack upon us, and it is well they should hear the truth—that it is nothing less than murder. People don't make war in such a fashion as this!"

Mark gave no heed to what his companions were saying. His eyes were fixed on the canoe, in which the three men had embarked, and it was in his mind that when they regained the schooner there would be a decided change in the position of affairs.

And in this he was not mistaken; within half an hour the boats belonging to the schooner, and the canoes of the Indians, were engaged in transporting the men to the shore of Mount Desert, half a mile or more north of the stockade.

"There's one satisfaction to be had in arousing the Frenchman's temper," Mark said, grimly, when the work of disembarkation was well under way. "We won't need to expect a night attack, and hang around in suspense waiting for it, because the assault is to be begun some time before sunset. We had best get out our supply of ammunition, and warn the others that they will soon be needed."

It was Susan who went to summon her mother and aunt, and when she returned, carrying a heavy burden of powder and bullets, it was to report:

"The children are to be kept in the house, under charge of Ellen. The others will be here in a minute or two."

"They can't come any too soon," Luke said, nervously. "The Frenchmen are already marching along the shore, with the Abenakis trailing on behind."

Susan was at her post of duty in a twinkling, and, looking out through the rough loopholes, she saw no less than twenty white men, ten of whom were armed with muskets, and the others carrying pikes, the head of which glittered in the sun, marching in soldierly array down the beach. In their rear slouched nine Indians, and it was safe to assume that the remainder of the red-skinned party had been disabled during the first assault.

It was a positive relief to Mark when he saw that the enemy was intending to march directly upon the stockade, most likely counting on carrying the place by the first assault. If the force had been divided, so that a portion might attack from the rear at the same time the others were in front, the task of holding them in check would have been well-nigh hopeless.

Even as it was, with everything in the children's favor, it did not seem possible they could defend themselves against such a force; but Mark said, as if believing the chances for success were very good:

"Remember that we can't afford to waste any bullets. If each of us could hit the target three times in succession, I warrant you those valiant Frenchmen would be eager to gain the shelter of their vessel. Both of you can strike four squirrels out of five at fifty paces, and surely you should be able to do as well when the mark is so much larger and moving slowly. Don't shoot until you are certain of hitting your man, and we'll soon see those fellow's backs."

Mistress Pemberton and Mistress Harding had come to do their share in the one-sided battle. Both the women looked pale and distressed, as was but natural under the desperate circumstances; but a single glance at their faces would have told that they believed the only course to be a stout resistance, even though it should cost the lives of all.

At the shore, directly in front of the stockade, the Indians forced a halt of the white men, by seemingly insisting that some other method of procedure be adopted, and during two or three minutes it appeared as if they would carry their point.

Mark drew a long breath of relief, however, when the officer who had demanded the surrender pushed his way past the savages with a threatening gesture, as he ordered the men forward again.

"They are coming straight on in a body," he said, in a low tone. "When you are certain of hitting the mark, shoot, and have the second musket where it can be got at quickly. If we could get in six fair shots at the start, it would be a big advantage."

Each of the children on the platforms had two muskets loaded, and the women stood ready to take every weapon as soon as it was empty. The ammunition, divided into three portions, was near the sharpshooters, and nothing remained to be done save take part in the life or death struggle so near at hand.

Steadily the French marched toward the stockade, evidently intending to begin the attack near the gate, and it was Susan who fired the first shot.

As the report of her musket rang out, one of the foremost men plunged forward to the ground, and five seconds later Mark brought another of the enemy down.

Luke fired, but failed of doing execution. He seized the second musket hurriedly, however, and crippled his foe, thus doing half as much as Mark had required.

"Three down in four shots isn't so bad!" the leader cried, encouragingly, and the words were hardly more than spoken before both he and Susan fired the second time, each of the bullets finding its billet.

Now it was that the Frenchmen halted without the word of command, and opened fire.

During three or four minutes it was as if a perfect hail-storm of lead raged around the stockade, but the stout logs afforded good protection. Never a missile found its way inside, and the spirits of the besieged rose rapidly.

Acting under Mark's orders, neither Susan nor Luke had attempted to make reply to the furious shooting, lest a bullet accidentally come through one of the loopholes, and when, because their weapons were empty, the soldiers ceased the aimless firing, the children's muskets had been recharged.

"If we can do as well as we did before, those fellows will soon show their backs!" Mark cried, cheerily, himself setting the example by wounding the officer.

Now the bullets came thick and fast during a full minute, and then the foremost of the assailants began to fall back, carrying the officer with them, and an instant later the entire party was in full and disorderly retreat.

Three children had actually beaten back twenty white men and nine Indians, without having received a scratch!

Not until the faint-hearted men were at the water's edge, beyond range of those in the stockade, was a halt made, and then it appeared as if they were holding a council of war.

[Illustration: An instant later the entire party was in retreat.]

The officer was laid in one of the boats, and the soldiers gathered around him, the able-bodied gesticulating furiously, and the wounded seated on the sand attending to their injuries. None had been killed outright, but the majority of those who had been hit would not be likely to take part in another attack, unless it was delayed for a considerable time.

It seemed as if the white men gave but little attention to what the Indians said during this council, for the savages were shouldered aside with scant ceremony, and after a few moments all the Abenakis, for none had been wounded, stalked gravely southward, where they were soon lost to view amid the bushes.

"We're going to have trouble from those fellows, and it won't be long coming," Mark said, as he leaped down from the platform, and ran toward that portion of the stockade immediately in the rear of the dwellings. "Keep a sharp watch over the Frenchmen, and let me know what they are doing!"

Then he began putting up a platform at that point where he could overlook the thicket, which last had been allowed to grow dangerously near the buildings, and had hardly mounted for the purpose of making a hasty survey, when a bullet imbedded itself in one of the posts against which he leaned.

"What is the matter?" Susan cried.

"The Abenakis have sneaked around here, where they can shoot while remaining under cover. Let mother come to load my muskets!"

The report of Mark's weapon followed the words, and from the thicket two or three muskets were discharged, thus showing that the entire force of Indians was lurking amid the underbrush.

Susan came running toward her cousin, carrying a weapon in each hand, and the latter asked, sharply:

"Why have you left your post? The Abenakis won't kick up much of a row until after dark."

"There is nothing to be done at the other side," Susan replied, as she set about dragging two or three lobster-pots toward the palisade. "The Frenchmen are paddling back to the schooner, not leaving one behind, and Luke is watching to see when they leave the vessel again."

Another bullet from the Thicket whistled uncomfortably near Mark's head, and he understood that the most dangerous portion of the attack was now to be met, for it was impossible to see a single foe. The swaying of the branches or the tiny curls of smoke, were the only tokens of an enemy, save when a weapon was discharged.

"Keep down under cover!" Mark cried, when Susan would have mounted the collection of lobster-pots. "They are shooting close, and if you should be disabled we would be in even worse trouble than we are now."

"But you are showing them a target."

"Some one must be here to hold them back." 11

"Then I have the same right as you," and the courageous girl clambered up on the shaky platform until it was possible for her to look over the palisade.

It was a most dangerous position, and, fearing lest she should be killed, Mark left his station to chop away the ends of the posts to make loopholes.

"Now you can have a view of the woods without showing yourself," he said, and would have gone back to his previous position, exposed though it was, but that she stopped him by asking:

"Will you do the same at your end of the fence as you have here?"

"There isn't so much need for me to keep under cover."

"There is ten times more reason why you should be careful than for me to skulk behind the posts. Unless you hew the timbers at your station as you have these, I shall change places with you."

Mistress Pemberton added her commands to Susan's entreaties, with the result that Mark was forced to protect himself so far as possible, but while he chopped at the posts half a dozen bullets struck close around the axe, showing that the Indians were on the alert.

When half an hour had passed neither Mark nor Susan had seen one of their enemies. Several times they fired at the places where the branches were waving as if some person was walking beneath them; but no cry of pain was heard to tell that the bullet had taken effect.

During this time Luke had reported more than once that the Frenchmen yet remained on board their vessel, and when the sun was sinking behind the hills Mark said to his cousin:

"We're wasting too much powder and lead, Sue. I don't believe one of our bullets has gone home, and we have sent far too many at random. The Frenchmen are not beaten yet, and we must have plenty of ammunition when they come again."

"What, then, are we to do?"

"I will stay here, keeping guard lest the Abenakis attempt to scale the fence. You and our mothers shall attend to the household duties, holding yourselves in readiness to come whenever I shout."

"But there is nothing for me to do in the house."

"Then take advantage of the opportunity to get a little rest, for it is certain that we shall have our hands full during all this night. Get supper, if nothing more, and then bring me something to drink."

"I'll do that first, and then look after myself," Susan said, as she went toward the house, and a moment later Mark heard from her a cry of distress.

"What's the matter?" he shouted, wildly, fearing, for the instant, that some of the savages had gained entrance to the dwelling despite his careful watch.

"The water! The water!" Susan cried, mournfully, and then came a hum of voices raised high in excitement and fear, amid which the sentinel could distinguish no words.

"Come here, Susan!" Mark shouted, peremptorily, and as the girl appeared he demanded, "Now tell me what has gone wrong?"

"The children have spilled all the water we took into the house, and there's not a drop to be had!"

"But they couldn't have carried the spring away," Mark replied, with a laugh, able to make merry even amid the terrible surroundings, so great was his relief at learning that nothing more serious had caused the cry which startled him.

"The sheep have gathered there, until the entire place is a mass of filthy mud."

"Well, well, don't let that distress you so sorely. We'll soon be able to clear it out, for I reckon these beggarly Abenakis won't keep me busy more than twelve hours."

"But if the Frenchmen should come in the meantime?"

"We'll take our chances of that, and get along without water a little while."

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