"The first thing that we have to do is to muster our forces and divide up the work," said Steve, when his party of trappers and hunters who were to act as scouts had left Fort William Henry a mile or more behind them. "Without organisation we shall be nowhere. We cannot live out here and do good work unless we rest, and if we wish to live we must not dream of resting all together. There would be a very sad tale to tell if we were so careless."
He called gently to Jim and Mac, who happened to be in rear of him, and at a signal from the latter the band of scouts gathered about their young leader, flitting noiselessly amongst the trees. As for Steve, looking tanned and weather-beaten, and as fine and independent a young leader as could well be found, he leaned against the lichen-covered trunk of a small oak, from which the leaves had long been shed, and kicked his snow-shoes from his feet.
"Make yourselves easy, boys," he said. "We'll discuss matters."
"One minute, Cap'n," answered Jim, shouldering his musket and facing round. "Now, boys, you ain't forgot what we've been talkin' about. Get into yer places, jest to let the Cap'n see as you know what's wanted. Hem! Form line! Pete, you're a foot or two out in yer calculations. Jest hop back a piece; and Mac, didn't I tell yer back there in the fort that an old soljer such as you air should know better how to range up with the company?"
Steve was amazed, and watched with a twinkle of amusement in his steady eyes as the band of backwoodsmen shambled into line, a line remarkable rather for its broken appearance and for its irregular gaps than for regularity. For the lusty and courageous backwoodsmen who till that day knew no master, who had fought and hunted in their own manner, without direction from any one, and more often than not with themselves alone to look to for leadership and advice, had little or no notion of discipline. They scoffed at leaders as a general rule, and at formation of any description. And in consequence the argument which had induced them at length to conform to Jim's wishes had waxed hot and furious.
"We've been settin' our heads together, Cap'n," said Jim, as he ran his eye down the ragged line of staunch backwoodsmen and scowled at Mac and a few others who did not show that amount of interest in the movement which pleased him. "We've seen what them chaps air like way back at the fort, and we reckoned that after all a bit of discipline air wanted. Yer see, supposin' we was called together all of a sudden, and them skunks of redskins war close handy, waal, if we hadn't any idea of order, where should we all be? Reckon the most of us would be jawin' and tellin' the others what to do. Waal, that ain't the thing to keep scalps on our heads. We want to collect quick as a flash and wait for a command. Ef you don't happen to be handy, then me or Mac or Pete, jest in that order, ef it's agreeable to you, 'll take over the post of leader for the time, and there won't be no—no—what's the word boys?"
"Confusion," suggested Steve quietly, suppressing the smile of amusement which was on his lips and stepping into his snow-shoes again. For all of a sudden he realized that these men who had so willingly placed themselves under his command were serious, desperately serious, and meant to do their utmost to get even with the enemy and wrest back from him the possessions which they had lost. The fine fellows were ready to sacrifice some of their much-cherished independence with the one object of making success more assured. He ran his eye down the rank of stalwart trappers, and noted Jim's slim proportions, his tall, wiry figure. Then Mac's flaming red beard caught his attention, and he looked with open approval at the sturdy, short figure of the Irishman, who stood at attention, his musket to the shoulder, his eye fixed on his leader. A glance, in fact, was sufficient to show that he alone of the whole company present had had some experience of drill and discipline. There, too, was Pete, his bulky figure bursting almost from his hunting shirt, his head and ears swathed in a huge coon-skin cap. Of the others, tall and short, slim or more sturdily built, there was not one who had not the appearance of a hardy backwoodsman. There was a keen look in every face, and if he had not known it before, the manner in which this band had slipped from the fort that morning and made their way into the forest told him that all were skilled in such work, that every man had had experience and could be counted on to act with the stealth and cunning of the oldest Indians. Though all with the exception of Mac lounged on their muskets in the most unmilitary style, Steve felt gratified at this the first sign of some attention to discipline. He swept his eye along the line again and let it rest on Silver Fox for the space of a second. The Mohawk warrior stood behind the line of men, resting upon his firearm, the fringes of his moccasins trailing into the snow at his feet. There was a look almost of scorn on his sharply-chiselled features, a look which seemed to say that he of all the party thought such a movement unnecessary.
"With men of my race such a thing is unnecessary, Hawk," he said in his slow, gutteral tones. "With us there is a leader, and when danger comes on the sudden the chirrup of a bird, the call of a wild cat, or the screech of an owl brings all together. Then he who speaks is the chief. If others dare to open their lips they die. With these comrades other methods are wanted perhaps. If so they are good. These are all brave men, and are here to fight and not to play. Silver Fox is satisfied."
"And I too," cried Steve, as he strode down the ranks and passed a word with every man. "Boys, you have done me the honour of accepting me as your leader, and I will do my best for you. I think that we all have the same cause for coming here. We have something to win back from the French and their Indians, and we have a king who asks for our help. I am glad to see that you are prepared to obey some sort of discipline, for it will certainly help us in case we should ever get into a tight place. It will be of service too when we are in action, and I for one have come here to fight, to do my best to drive back the French and their Indians."
There was a general shuffling of snow-shoes at his words, a restless movement along the ragged line which told that the men approved. Had regular soldiers been there they would have tossed their caps on to their bayonets and cheered. But these backwoodsmen knew well that a shout might bring a hornet's nest about their ears, and more than that, custom had taught them to be taciturn as a rule, to be silent and thoughtful, given to deeds and not to words.
"And we're all here to do the same," burst in Jim. "Reckon me and you, Cap'n, and every boy here, has a bone to clean with them 'ere French, and ef we hadn't er guessed as you would most likely show us some fightin', why——"
"Sure ye know we'd not have been here," sang out Mac, his long friendship with Steve and Jim overcoming all discipline. "But Hawk'll show us the way, bhoys, and remimber, ivery one of ye, that till we can drive these men back to their own counthry there'll be no peace for us, their murtherin' Indians will be rhunnin' over our sittlemints, and our wives and childer, God kape the darlints! will be back there where we've lift 'em, waitin' and longin' for their homes."
There was a low growl from the ragged rank at that, and the backwoodsmen instinctively gripped the barrels of their ponderous muskets. There was now a stern look in their eyes, a look which boded ill for the enemy.
"Then we are all agreed," sang out Steve. "Now for ways and means. I propose that we live out of the fort. Men there are dying daily from infectious disease, while those who form the garrison have little to do but grumble. Let us take up our quarters out here in the forest. We are used to roughing it, and know well how to provide against severe weather."
"Seth Shorter! Where air yer, Seth? Ah, then step forward and speak up," sang out Jim at this moment. "Now, Cap'n, Seth here has been born and brought up close to these lakes, and I reckon he'll know every inch of the ground. Ef we're to live out in the forest, he's the boy to say where. As for livin' out, why we're all for that, for who'd want to stay in there at the fort?"
He pointed a contemptuous finger in the direction of Fort William Henry where they had spent the previous night, and where even that short experience had taught them that life in the British stronghold was not one altogether to be desired. For, as Steve had said, men died fast from disease, while the hours hung terribly heavy for all who formed the garrison.
"Now, Seth, where air this camp of ours to be?" demanded Jim, slouching up to the sturdy backwoodsman who had been called upon, and slapping him upon the shoulder with his gloved hand. "Where air the place, lad?"
"Thar ain't a doubt where we should camp," came the ready answer. "It's like this, Cap'n and mates. Here's Wood Creek running down from the foot of Lake Champlain, and alongside of it thar's Lake St. George, which is a good deal bigger. Waal, up thar, at the foot of Champlain, there's Crown Point, one of them Frenchie's forts, and below that they've Ticonderoga building. Between Lake St. George and Wood Creek thar's a tidy strip of land and wood, and ef thar's a place as I know, why—-"
"You are acquainted with that," interrupted Steve, eagerly. "Well?"
"Waal, thar's a bit of a stretch o' rocky ground at the foot of that strip o' land, and thar ain't a tree on it for quite a bit. All round's forest, same as this, and then thar's the frozen lakes. Now, Cap'n, I've shot and trapped over that 'ere place scores o' times, and me and a mate once did a winter's outin' thar, trappin' and collectin' pelts. We was, as you might say, jest as this 'ere party air. We was lookin' for a campin' ground whar we could live in spite of weather, and whar we could have a show ef them red-skinned varmint comed along."
"And yer found it?" asked Jim eagerly.
"You bet. That thar rocky ground has got a kind of nose on it. It kicks up into the air all of a sudden, jest a hundred feet perhaps, and right at the top it dips jest as sudden. That dip air about the size to take this party, and with a few trees across the top and a lacing of reeds the snow'll lie and form a roof which looks as natural—waal——"
"As possible," suggested Steve.
"Right, Cap'n. As natural as possible I reckon. From that ere place a few of us chaps could hold up a hundred and more of the varmint ef we had a supply of victuals."
"Then we'll make for it and inspect," said Steve promptly. "How far is it from the fort?"
"A matter of five mile perhaps, mate, I mean Cap'n."
"The same, my lad," laughed Steve. "We are all mates on this trail. But one word before we move. You are all more experienced than I am, and since you have decided to follow some sort of discipline, I will say nothing more about it, but leave the matter to you alone. But once we have our quarters we will divide into watches, and select hunters and scouts. Now, Seth, just give us a lead."
The trapper shuffled over the snow at once, his musket flung over his shoulder, and without seeming to take note of his position strode off at right angles to the course which they had been following. As promptly his comrades divided into parties, which had been arranged by Jim and Mac, and while some trailed off after Seth and Steve, others moved away like ghosts into the forests to act as flanking guards. And as Steve cast his eye to right and left he caught sight of their figures every now and again, silently flitting between the trees, each man listening intently, noting every little sign, and still keeping in touch with the main party. Ten minutes later the hoot of an owl brought the trappers together.
"Thar's been redskins and Frenchies here," said one of the band, as he pointed to a narrow track in the snow. "They passed last night, I should reckon."
"And blazed a fresh trail," added Steve swiftly. "Look over there."
His sharp eye had seen a white clip in the side of a tree some distance away, and closer inspection and a little search showed that he was not in error.
"The Hawk has an eye of which the finest chief might be proud," said Silver Fox. "These men passed in the afternoon of yesterday. There were ten of them."
"And one was less accustomed to shoes than the others," said Steve swiftly. "He was a pale face."
"He was. The Hawk can read the signs as I have already learned. One was a pale face, and he led. They went towards the fort, blazing a new track. They returned across the ice."
There was an exclamation at that from some of the trappers who up till lately had been unacquainted with Silver Fox. But Jim silenced the doubts of his comrades promptly.
"How's that, chief?" he asked in the Mohawk, which all the party understood. "How did you get that reckonin'?"
"Ask the Hawk," was the curt answer. "He read these signs, and he knew how they returned."
"It is easy to guess at their track back, but one cannot say absolutely for sure," smiled Steve. "Look at the tracks of their shoes here, boys. Well, there are no return traces. Yesterday they made in the direction of Fort William, and I guess that they were back at their own quarters before night fell. Remember how cold it was and how it began to blow in the early afternoon."
"It did that," exclaimed one of the men. "The snow was sweeping over the ice on the lakes."
"Just so, and the clouds of snow hid them well. They slipped from the forest on to the ice, and with the wind behind them were almost blown back home, while their traces were covered. Here, in the forest, where the full force of the wind was not so much felt, their tracks are pretty clear. They are home again, boys, and we can do nothing with them to-day. But another time——"
"We'll remember that they've blazed a path," said Jim curtly. "We'll set a watch on this place."
Once more the band separated and plunged on through the silent forest, and within a little while they found themselves on rising ground which finally led up to a hollow, some fifty feet long, by twenty broad, and some fifteen deep. Its opening faced directly north, in the direction of the French position, while its back was walled in by a mass of rock and frozen earth. For roof it had the sky, now overcast and treacherous-looking, save at the extreme rear, where a mass of snow was supported by the branches of a fallen tree.
"The only one as grew up thar," explained Seth, pointing to it. "Me and my mate felled it and dropped it inter position, whar it formed a roof over our heads. Now ef we was to do the same right along, and place a wall in front, there'd be a fort ter be proud of, and room in plenty for every man."
For some few minutes the members of the band closely inspected the hollow and its surroundings, Steve noting with much satisfaction that the slightly elevated position of the mound gave those who occupied it a perfect watch-tower from which they could in clear weather see the frozen surfaces of Lake St. George and Wood Creek, while the trees stood back so far that there was little or no cover for an attacking enemy. It was just the place for an armed camp, for it was within reach of their friends, occupied an advanced position, and, owing to its nearness to Fort William Henry, could easily be victualled. For a little while he stood on the edge of the hollow staring out at the wind-swept and dark frozen surface of the long lake to the left, known as St. George, and then at the still more slender strip to the right, Wood Creek, on the banks of which many a little skirmish had taken place between colonials and French Indians. La petite guerre, as the French named these conflicts, had been the order for many a month past, for the enemy were bold, and too often their Indians and coureurs de bois had pounced upon the colonials as they gathered firewood, or looked for food in the forests. Steve and his party, with such a commanding position, might well hope to put a stop to many of these unexpected attacks.
"We have found the very place, Cap'n," exclaimed Jim, with some emphasis, as he stared around. "On a quiet night I reckon we could easily hear folks on the ice, and ef we was held up badly, why a charge of powder buried under the rocks and fired with a train would make a boom as would come to the ears of those in the fort."
"We'll occupy it and take possession at once," answered Steve readily. "Call the men round."
An hour later fourteen figures could be seen slouching away from the mound across the snow in the direction of Fort William Henry, while their comrades, with Steve, slipped their gloves from their fingers, and, slinging their muskets, made for the forest. A few words, in fact, to these intensely practical men had set them in motion. While three stood on the mound keeping a sharp look out, the others went to drag the longest boughs they could find in the forest, where hundreds lay on the ground. Then the fourteen who had made back for the fort carried a note from Steve asking for stores of every description. Indeed, as the night began to fall this portion of Steve's following came trailing back, dragging an improvised sledge, on which they had loaded cases of salted meat, dried bear's flesh, bacon, and beans, besides rum, lead, and an ample supply of powder.
Meanwhile those who had remained had gathered a huge stock of boughs, and had easily contrived to place the longest across the top of the hollow. Others had been laid crosswise on these, and on the top of all a thick covering of brambles, reeds, and pine branches had been strewn.
One of the backwoodsmen had detached himself from his fellows, and while they laboured at the roofing of their fort he had set to work with knife and tomahawk. He was an expert, it seemed, for in a little while he had a number of blocks of frozen snow collected at the very mouth of the hollow. And with these and a number of loose rocks he soon contrived to erect a rough fireplace, with a wide chimney overhanging it, which ran up the sloping back of the hollow, and finally pushed its white top through the rough roof above. It was a neat job, and one to be proud of, and this trapper longed to see the chips which he had set in the grate below fired, and send long tongues of flame up the chimney.
"You'd have the hul howling lot of varmint round us in a jiffy," growled Jim, as he watched the man lay the wood in the grate. "Reckon thet fire'll have to get started when it snows hard, and after that, when it's light, nothing but chips as dry as a bone'll have to get throwed on it. Even then, thar ain't any sayin' as a redskin wouldn't spot the smoke."
"With care, it will be well," said Silver Fox, as Jim turned to him as if to ask for his decision. "See, my brother, behind the smoke there will be the sky, and it is clear and white. If dry chips are used there will be a little white smoke perhaps, but none that is dark. We can keep fire within the fort once it has been set alight. Truly, you pale faces think of strange things. Where my brothers and I would have set our wigwams in the thickest forest, there seeking protection from the snow and keen winter winds, you come hither and burrow like foxes. You make one big wigwam where we should have seen no opportunity of doing so, and as I look on and smoke you erect a fort which is strong against attack, which is a watch-tower from which you can see every foot of the lakes, and which also is a comfortable lair in which the firelight can be seen, and where we may huddle about the warmth, and smoke and think. Truly there is no understanding you men who have come so strangely from over the water."
The tall Indian brave wrapped his blanket still closer about his figure, and gazed out at the huge panorama stretched before him. There lay the glistening surface of the two lakes, now clad with ice from end to end, and fringed all about by continuous forest, which grew up to the banks and cast there a deep shadow, which looked black against the white of the ice. And away in the distance the faint reflection from another long expanse of frozen water, Lake Champlain, called after that famous Frenchman who had done so much for New France, and who had founded Quebec. It, too, was clad in a garment of white, snow hanging to the trees, and in the dull wintry green of the pines, which grew thickly there. For background there was the blue haze of the Adirondacks and the Green Mountains, now the favourite haunt of thousands of holiday-seeking Americans. And still farther to the north, buried in the dull horizon and behind it, lay the Richelieu river, with its few forts, and its seigneuries, where the gentilhommes of this new colony, the lately-constructed noblesse, sat in their palisaded houses watching as their habitants cooked their food or went a-hunting. Then it was that these noblesse might don doe-skin leggings, shirt, and moccasins, and clad in the thick fur coats, with hoods, worn by the Indians of Canada, and with thick mittens slung about their necks, might venture into the forest with the habitants and enjoy all the excitement of the chase. Yes, they could hunt and fight, but work, never! Each one was the seigneur, and the lords of Old and New France never blistered their palms nor dirtied their fingers.
"We're almost ready," said Steve, as he stood beside the tall Silver Fox, staring out at the scene below. "What we want now is a wall of snow here in front. How are we to set about building it?"
"It's as easy as fallin'," answered Jim at once. "Look up there, Cap'n."
He pointed to the leaden sky above, and held his hand up for a minute.
"Wind's from the north, Cap'n," he said, "and it's goin' to snow. To-morrow things'll be properly covered, and ef we jest build a wall of branches at the face of this nest, waal, it'll be covered afore the mornin'. Reckon this place'll be lookin' jest natural when the light comes again."
"Then set the men to work," cried Steve, hurrying off to where a pile of branches and small tree trunks had been dragged. "It will be dark in an hour, and if it is going to snow, as I can well believe, why, we may just as well make all snug beforehand."
Less than an hour later there was an erection of boughs and branches against the face of the hollow, to which the finishing touches were given as the darkness fell. By then snowflakes were silently flitting to the ground, powdering the rough roof above the hollow, and resting upon the caps and shoulders of the trappers. A little later it was dark, and through the flakes the distant twinkle of a dozen or more lights could be seen.
"Ticonderoga," said Steve, as he sheltered his face from the snow. "To-morrow we shall hope to know more about its position and about the movements of its garrison. Now, what about sentries?"
"Reckon we can all turn in and be comfortable, Cap'n," answered Jim promptly. "There ain't no need for look-outs to-night. The snow'll keep every livin' soul under cover. It's coming thicker. See for yerself. The lights have gone, and the darkness is deeper."
One by one the gallant little band crept into the cosy little nest which they had prepared, a strip of blanket being dropped over the small opening which had been left amongst the branches. Then pipes were produced and filled, while the backwoodsman who had so diligently built fireplace and chimney, used flint and steel with a will, and watched with all the pleasure of a child as the sparks caught hold and the flames licked round the wood. Soon there was a bright blaze, while smoke soared up the chimney.
"There ain't no red-skinned varmint as'll be able to see that, I reckon," growled Jim, as he snatched a blazing ember from the fire and lit his pipe, passing the brand round the circle when he had finished with it. "It air snowin' hard, and the best brave livin' couldn't see more'n a dozen yards. Get to work with supper, boys, then a yarn or so, and we'll put in the best sleep we've had for many a night past."
Could the French commander at Ticonderoga have clambered to the top of their hollow and peered down at the band lounging below, he would have been more than a little disturbed. For the firelight which lit up the quaint quarters of Steve's command, was reflected from every face, and showed a collection of trappers, every one of whom was a man indeed. They sat for the most part with their muskets close beside them, or across their knees, for the habit had grown upon them these last few months. And as they yarned, the tale falling now from this one, and then from the lips of others of the band, stories of fierce border fights came to the ear, stories which all knew to be true in every detail. Wiry backwoodsmen recounted how they had left civilization to become pioneers in the wilderness, how fortune had smiled upon them, how the land had been cleared, the crops sown, the hut erected, and the store of pelts increased, till the prospect for the future was rosy. And then the French had come, they and their so-called Christian Indians. Wives and children had been slaughtered, men had been slain and scalped, huts fired, and the future utterly wrecked. That was the moment when the forebodings of the French commander would have been greatest, for every bronzed face below looked exceedingly grim and determined, while often enough there was a bitter word on the lips of those who had lost dear ones. Hands gripped the ponderous muskets, while fingers fidgeted about the flint locks or felt for powder pouches. Yes, these men had much with which to refresh their memories, and each and every one was determined to come to hand-grips with the French, and to fight till the day when the enemy was beaten and they and their friends restored to their possessions.
"Time to turn in," said Steve at last. "Boys, we'll take it in turns to keep the fire going, and to-morrow we'll tell off a couple to act as cooks. Good-night! Let's hope we shall see something of the enemy soon."
There was a chorus of good-nights, then blankets were produced, and very soon the firelight showed only recumbent figures.
"There's a sight for yer," was Jim's exclamation on the following morning, as he rose from his blanket and pushed his head through the narrow outlet. "Ain't that a pictur?"
Steve pressed past him and gave a cry of amazement, for though he knew the forest well, and had seen many a winter, he had never looked on such a scene. Far and wide the country was white, and glistening in the rays of a winter's sun. Trees and lakes and mountains all had the same thick covering, save in a few odd places, where the green of the pines broke through, or where the snow had tumbled from the treetops. As for the lakes, they were a vast expanse of the whitest snow, laid out most wonderfully at their feet, a long expanse which stretched up to the banks, clambered up the trees, and ran on over the forest unbroken. Unbroken? No, for suddenly Steve's arm shot out, and he pointed in the direction of Ticonderoga.
"Critters," said Jim with a sniff of approval. "Injuns, I reckon, and those are guns trailin' out behind 'em. Cap'n, it looks as ef they war off on some expedition. There'll be two or three hundred of the fellers."
It was true enough. Straggling across the surface of Lake St. George came a small force of Indians and Frenchmen, while in rear trailed a couple of guns mounted on sledges. The head of the expedition was turned towards the foot of the lake, and, as it advanced, those who looked could not be sure whether the force were intended for an attack upon Fort William Henry, or whether they were themselves the object of the enemy.
"There can no longer be a doubt," said Steve, some ten minutes later. "Those fellows must have seen us, or gained news of our coming. They are marching for this side of the lake, and before very long we shall have their cannon playing on us. Call the boys."
It was with very mixed feelings that Steve and his band of hunters and scouts watched the coming of the French and their Indians, for as the light grew stronger and they were able to see somewhat better, they made out that two hundred at least of the enemy were marching across the snow-clad lake.
"And there air the guns, boys," said Jim, as if he had been calculating their chances. "Up here we've a fort so to speak, and it'll take them braves a time to storm it. The French'll lead 'em, and they air the ones we must keep a watch on. Ef them gunners get the range, and can pop in a few shots, there'll be a muss."
"If we are good enough to allow them to keep at the game," said Steve slowly. "Granted that they get the range, and make out the front face of this place, well, we must do something to prevent them from knocking us to pieces."
"A sortie, Cap'n?" asked Pete, standing beside his young leader, and looking unusually bulky and formidable on this clear, frosty morning. "Ef that's the order, you can put me down. A bit o' runnin' would suit me. It's cold here for fingers and toes."
"We will see," responded Steve, still with his eyes fixed on the advancing enemy. "Meanwhile, I vote that we select our cooks and get some breakfast. A man can do better when he's had a meal. Stir the fire, boys, and who are the ones to look to our food?"
He stepped inside the shelter again, and ran his eyes round the men whose figures were lit up still by the fire, for now that a heavy fall of snow had covered their rough roof and the front wall, it was very dark inside. There were twenty-seven men in all, for he had obtained several recruits at the fort on the previous day. Seth and another at once put their hands up.
"I ain't been trappin' and fightin' all these days without knowin' a bit about a cooking pot," said the former with a grin. "Put me and Adam here on to the job, Cap'n, and we'll do our best. A man can't do more."
"'Cept fight and pull a trigger whenever there's critters to be shot," laughed his comrade. "That air a bargain, ain't it, Cap'n? We cook for the company, and we does our share with the muskets. 'Twouldn't be fair to bring us out here to do what chaps from the coast and towns could manage just as well."
"You may take my word for it. You shall have a full share of the fighting," laughed Steve. "Get to at breakfast then, while we discuss the other matter."
A little later all were seated about the fire once more, discussing a savoury stew of bear's meat, which had been left simmering most of the night. And as they sat and ate, Silver Fox, vigilant as always, crouched in the opening to this the strangest of forts, and watched the enemy.
"They are out of sight, Hawk," he said at length, turning and crawling to Steve. "The forests cover them for a while. Soon they will be here."
"Then now is the time. Get to work," cried Steve.
The band broke up at once, and leaving their muskets, crept for the most part through the opening. For they had work to do outside, and now was their opportunity to accomplish it while the trees hid them from the enemy. Gathering outside, they piled a wall of snow at the foot of the barrier which filled in the front face of their fort, while some inside took stout stakes and rammed them through the interlaced branches and their thick covering of snow till apertures were left through which a man might thrust a musket barrel and take good aim. Moreover, these openings were at such a height from the floor of the fort that those who made use of them could see to fire over the wall which those outside were busily erecting.
"They are for use if we are driven inside," said Steve, as he watched the men at work. "Now, boys, run the wall as far out on the right as you can, and make openings in it also. We must do all we can to upset the calculations of the enemy, for it would not do for us to fire from the opening of our retreat in the first instance."
Using their hands for the most part, or a thick bough, the trappers swept the deep snow which lay on the rocky ridge into a wall some three feet high, and now that that portion directly in front of the hollow was completed, they pushed on with the work to the right of the fort, where the hummock or rock ran on without interruption, presenting a ledge some ten feet wide, which was perfectly level. To the left the rock fell away suddenly just outside the hollow, and it would have been impossible to erect even a narrow wall.
"Reckon that air a good idea of yours, Cap'n," said Pete, as he beat the snow with his hands to make it bind firmly together. "When them critters gets out'er the trees and makes for the hollow, the snow'll puzzle 'em a little, and they won't be properly sure whereabouts the mouth of the hollow lies. Chances air that not a one of 'em's ever set foot in it. They've likely enough looked up here a score of times jest in the ordinary way of scoutin'. But that won't help 'em much, particular when the hul place is changed by the snow."
"Just what I thought," answered Steve. "If we were to open fire from behind the wall erected just in front of the hollow, the smoke would give our position away to them at once, and they would soon send their cannon balls plumping into the place. As it is, we can crawl away behind the wall till we are well to the right, and there——"
"Reckon cannon balls don't do much harm against rock, Cap'n," burst in Jim. "The only thing now is to be careful that them critters don't see us at work as they come out of the trees. Best call some of 'em in."
By now the wall which Steve had planned was almost completed, and he at once followed Jim's advice. The majority of the trappers were directed to lie down behind that portion which stood in front of the hollow, while the red-bearded Mac, Pete, and four others went on with the projection to the right, for there it would not matter much if they were seen. However, it is no easy matter to drag guns through a forest where the ground is rough and covered deeply with snow, and an hour more had passed before the head of the enemy's force emerged from the screen of trees which had hidden them from Steve and his men, and which had equally hidden the band of trappers from the French and their bloodthirsty Indians. When they did at length emerge, filing out from the mottled background one by one, Steve's men were in readiness. Those who were advancing to attack them could see only an eminence, getting steeper as it neared the top, and then suddenly erecting a big hummock, in which lay the hollow so strangely converted into a fort. Many had looked at this spot before, just as they did at other parts of the surrounding country in their daily search for stragglers and woodcutters from Fort William Henry. They had a general idea of its conformation, but the heavy fall of snow upset their calculations. They stared at the rise, looking in vain for the hollow and for sight of the trappers.
"Strange," exclaimed their leader, a tall French officer, who was wrapped in a fur coat, and whose head and ears were muffled in a thick skin cap.
"We had information that they went there last night. Our scout told us that they were busy cutting wood and roofing in some hollow. He saw that it was about to snow, and fearful of losing his way in the storm, he made back to the fort. But the same storm will have kept these trappers here, unless—unless."
"Unless they should have crept away this morning," said his subaltern quickly. "I will give an order to the Indians. The Hurons will tell us whether they are there or not."
A nod told him that he had his captain's permission, and within a minute a dozen blanketed forms had slid ahead of the force. Steve saw them toss their blankets to their comrades, and then, like hounds on the trail, their heads went closer to the snow-covered ground, their shoulders bent, and, separating, the Huron Indians went off across the snow at the edge of the forest at a pace which would have taxed the strength of the strongest European.
"Them cusses'll make round the place within a quarter of an hour, and ef a fox had made out, I reckon they'd know," growled Seth, as he watched from an embrasure. "My advice is lie low and puzzle 'em. Give 'em a chance to crawl nearer."
Steve gave a low whistle at once, while he lay at full length staring through an embrasure at the enemy below. And within a little while Jim and Pete and Mac were beside him. They came crawling along the cleared ground behind the wall, and presently were seated beside their young leader. As for the French and their Indians, they had seen not so much as a sign of the movement. For Steve was 'cute, and had the advantage of possessing trained trappers. When building their wall not a man had dared to step to the outside of it. They had taken the snow and thrown or swept it to their front, so that on the outside there was not so much as a mark. Then the two hours' labour had enabled them to run the wall some thirty yards to the right, while behind it there was a rough gallery, along which any man could crawl unseen.
"Now, boys," said Steve, as they threw themselves at his feet, "I propose that we take Seth's advice. We'll lie still as foxes till they begin to think that we have gone. Let them send their Indians up here, and all wait till I give a signal. That will be the best way in which to meet them. And in any case we all fire from the extreme right of the wall, unless they get so close that a rush is possible. Then we will collect. Has every man plenty of ammunition?"
"Heaps, Cap'n," answered Jim, "and the boys know what's to happen. In case they don't, we'll give 'em a warnin'. All are to wait for the signal."
They went crawling back to their stations on hands and knees, and presently Steve joined them at the extreme right of the wall. Here, within a space of ten yards, the whole band was collected, each man stretched full length on the rock and snow, his eye to a loophole, his head well hidden by the wall of snow, and his musket ready beside him. All were wrapped in rough fur coats, for the most part made of skins which they themselves had collected. Big, warm coon-skin caps covered their heads and ears, while each man had a pair of sack gloves secured to his neck by long strips of doe skin, so that he might discard the covering at any moment and move from his position without losing his gloves. Indeed this was a plan generally adopted in Canada and America in those days, and one which we know was made use of by the Japanese in their recent war with Russia.
Meanwhile the enemy had halted on the fringe of the encircling forest, and stood there about the guns, within six hundred yards of their object. And as they stood the twelve Huron Indians stole softly away over the snow, till at length they had completely covered the circle. There was a movement then amongst their comrades, and presently the teams of men hauling the guns strained at the tackle, and dragged the ponderous weapons into the forest. At the same time a hundred of the Indians broke from the ranks with wild whoops, and began to move towards the mound.
"They know as well as we do that we're here," growled Jim, as he stared through his loophole. "Them critters'll come within range jest to tempt us. But they won't dare to rush right up. Trust 'em for that. They ain't much good at chargin', and no Injun's goin' to throw away his life for nothin'."
"The French will give them a lead perhaps," said Steve. "When they find that we do not move, and their own Indians will not approach closer, it is probable that they will come themselves to see whether we are actually here."
"Jest because no Frenchie, and no white man for the matter of that, who ain't had experience hisself can believe the 'cuteness of the Injuns, Cap'n. Some of 'em who air new to the backwoods and to the trail, reckon they're mighty 'cute theirselves when they've been a month only in the country. They don't reckon that nothin', not even the print of a bird escapes the eye of a brave. Ef they do give the Injuns a lead, why——"
"It's our turn, boys," sang out Mac. "Sure, haven't we suffered? Haven't our people been shot down and scalped. Haven't the women and childer been driven from their homes. Sure, now's the toime of our loives."
"If all goes as we hope," Steve ventured. "There are the guns to be thought of."
They continued chatting in low voices while the hundred or more Indians discarded their blankets or coats, and with muskets at the trail came sidling up towards the mound on their snowshoes. Presently the smooth and unbroken expanse of snow below which had met the eyes of the trappers early that morning was scored and seamed by hundreds of marks and lines, the prints of the snowshoes. The figures of the Indians, too, dwarfed before by the distance, were now far clearer, for they were within two hundred yards of the hollow. Steve and his friends watched as they gathered together for a while and discussed matters. Then one of the Hurons, a gigantic fellow, broke from his comrades and came stalking up the rise, his musket over his shoulder, his tomahawk in his hand, and a wily and determined look on his sharply-cut mahogany features.
"It air an old trick that," growled Jim. "Maybe he's given offence to some of his tribe. Perhaps he ain't been so forward in the battle as he should ha' been. So he's took the first opportunity of doin' somethin' out o' the way to prove as he ain't a coward. Ef he walks right up, as he well may do——"
"Not a man must move," said Steve sharply and with decision. "Recollect that we are placed high above them, and that the ground slopes very steeply, even from the front face of the wall, so that if a man wishes to look over and see us he must actually reach the wall. Not a man must lift a finger till that Indian actually sees us and shouts. Then it will be time."
A whispered warning was passed down the ranks, and all squinted through their loopholes, watching the hulking figure of the Indian as he ascended. It appeared indeed as if he was determined to sacrifice himself, and would actually clamber up to the wall and over it in his eagerness to be killed or to discover the enemy. He advanced without a waver till within forty yards of Steve and his men, and then, for the first time, they saw him hesitate. He paused, looked round at his comrades, now too far away to support him, and then deliberately lifted his musket to his shoulder, pointed the barrel at the mound above him, and pressed the trigger, sending a bullet thudding into the snow. When the smoke blew away, he was still there, standing now to his full height, his eagles' feathers trailing to his waist, his scalp locks, with which his leggings were fringed, fluttering in the wind, and his hideously painted face turned towards the hollow.
"Listen pale faces," he called out in his sing-song style, as if he were addressing a meeting of braves. "I am here to summon you to come down and be our prisoners. I swear that no harm shall befall you."
He was silent for a while, and stood staring up at the hummock as if expecting an answer.
"Ef only I might," whispered Jim, his face aglow at the thought, and his huge brown fist clenched. "Ef only I dared shoot the skunk where he stands. Harm! As ef we didn't all know that an Injun's word ain't worth a row of chips. As ef one of them critters could ever keep his fingers off a white man when he got the chance! Don't me and every boy here know well that a man might jest as well, ay, and better, far better, too, put a barrel to his head and draw a trigger rather than fall a prisoner. None of yer Indian prisoners fer me. Huntin' Jim ken tell a tale or two o' pale face men and women, and children, too, the villains has burned and tortured to death by inches!"
"Hush! He's going to speak again," whispered Steve, nudging the irate backwoodsman. "Perhaps he thinks after all that we are not here."
"Thinks, Cap'n! He knows jest as well as you or me. He ain't a fool. None of them varmint air."
"You do not speak, pale faces," came the sing-song voice again. "Listen, all who lie hidden before me. I give you one more invitation from the white men who lead us. Descend and there shall be no harm."
Once more he waited, while many a hand went to the muskets and many a face scowled at the tall Indian.
"Then, listen again," he went on. "I and my brothers know that you are there, hiding like foxes. If you will not descend, then show yourselves, fight like men, and let it be a combat with tomahawks. See, I am here, the Giant Oak, known throughout the great lakes for strength and endurance. I have fired my shot, and here I will wait for your leader to come forth and do battle with me."
Silence. The silence of the grave alone greeted the brave who had dared to come so close to the hollow. As Steve stared down at him, he saw that the Indian was making good use of every second, for his keen eyes searched every foot of the snow-clad slope above him, looked into every tiny hollow, and sought to discover a footmark, something to tell him the exact position of the men whom his experience told him were there. But nature had done her work well enough. The heavy fall of snow had covered every trace, and the astuteness of the trappers had done the rest. The man looked baffled and desperate. He caught at his powder horn, charged his musket, primed the lock, and once more sent a bullet thudding into the snow. Then, jeering aloud and throwing every sort of insult at the heads of the hidden enemy, he turned and slid down the hummock, watched by many a pair of eyes.
"And lucky for him," said Jim. "Now there'll be a bother. They'll put their heads together, and there'll be a palaver. The French'll try to make 'em charge, and likely enough the critters will come a little closer. Then, ef they haven't moved us, them Frenchies'll try a rush."
"When we shall break the silence," said Steve. "Look, there are the guns."
Jim was an old Indian fighter, and what he had prophesied took place. For while the Indians gathered together, and could be seen talking and being harangued by some French officers, the two guns which had so long been out of sight suddenly appeared at the edge of the forest, and this time within an easy three hundred yards' range. There they were dismounted, and Steve's men watched the gunners ram in their charges and train the weapons on the slope.
"A combined movement," said Steve easily, a determined smile on his lips. "They will endeavour to distract our attention while their comrades charge. Ah, there go the Indians. Pass the word. Let every man remember that not a trigger is to be drawn till I give the signal."
It was just as well that he reissued the warning, for it is hard work for men itching to retaliate and suffering under the knowledge of many cruel wrongs, to lie and listen to the patter and thud and whistle of large calibre bullets without sending their own leaden messengers back. However, the backwoodsmen knew what was wanted, and they lay like logs as the Indians drew nearer and nearer, firing as they came. Often and often those trained shots, who had lived their lives in the woods, could have picked off one of their old enemies. But they refrained, though many a growl escaped them. Then came the guns. A column of smoke belched of a sudden from the fringe of the forest, and a ball thudded against the rocky wall behind, bringing down a mass of frozen débris. A second missile struck the very summit of the hummock, was caught as it were by the snow, and with all the venom taken out of it and its pace retarded, went rolling down the far side.
"Jest a little gentle play," smiled Jim grimly. "Let 'em send their cannon balls. Reckon they won't hurt us. But them Frenchies air gettin' ready to charge."
It was as he said, for as Steve looked through the round opening made in the bank of snow, he saw some fifty dark figures emerge from the trees beside the guns, and throw off their heavier clothing. They were French regulars for the most part, as was shown by their blue and white uniform. But there was a sprinkling of coureurs de bois amongst them, bold men of the forest, who had long ago demonstrated their capacity for this class of work.
"We'll not be in a hurry," said Steve. "It is harder work to charge up a hillock, which after all may be untenanted, than it is to dash up while bullets swish past, and while the shouts and cheers of comrades help to keep up one's courage. Not a shot, boys, till you hear my musket. Ah, here they come, and the guns are starting again."
He had watched the French gunners sponging out their pieces, and now crouched a little lower as a ball came hurtling overhead with a scream, and expending all its force against the soft cushion of snow lying on the hummock above, dropped backwards like a stone, and fell with a thud at his feet.
"Sure, 'tis one of thim bhoys as could give ye a gentle little knock, so it would," sang out Mac, while the trappers laughed heartily. "I'll be afther axing ye, Mr. Frenchie down there, to aim to the rhight a bhit, for Mac here don't like thim pellets, and there's Huntin' Jim as is afeared of the beauties."
There was another laugh at that, a low, noiseless laugh for these men knew that sounds travelled easily and far on such a frosty day. Then all fixed their eyes on the gathering of Frenchmen below, and watched as they advanced towards the hillock, taking their time, for they wished to have all their breath for the more difficult part of their task.
"Ef they'd only hurry," growled Jim. "They're delayin' so much that it makes me jumpy. 'Sides, it's goin' to snow agin, and that'd help 'em."
Indeed, as he spoke, a few flakes came sidling noiselessly through the air, while the clear sparkling light was rapidly shut out by the masses of heavy clouds which were gathering above. Heavy snow might, indeed, be expected, and would help to hide the attackers as they came. Nor were the French slow to recognise that fact. While the guns went on with their bombardment, pitching balls now to the right and then to the left, and on one occasion clean into the hollow, the party who had gathered and moved out to storm the hillock halted and shouted to one another. Ten minutes later as the snow-flakes came tumbling heavily and the wind whirled them across the white expanse below, the Frenchmen started again, and, raising loud shouts, dashed forward as fast as their snow-shoes would carry them. Arriving at the steeper part of the hillock they kicked their shoes away, and in a trice were scrambling up, their muskets slung over their shoulders and tomahawks or cutlasses in their hands.
It was a tense moment for all behind the wall, and even the oldest trapper there felt his heart thumping against his ribs and his pulses throbbing with unusual force. Steve's men lay as if they were dead, each man stretched behind a loop-hole, and every muzzle held just within the opening. The dark figures below became a little more clear amidst the whirling snow-flakes, their shouts grew rapidly closer, and far sooner than Steve had expected they were within easy range. But still he held his hand till only thirty yards divided the combatants.
Bang! Crash! His own piece bellowed noisily, and in an instant a volley burst from the defenders, spitting flames and smoke and leaden bullets into the Frenchmen. There was a shout of consternation, and some dozen of the attackers fell backwards and went sliding down the steep sides of the hill, carrying an avalanche of snow with them, till they reached a more level portion, where their bodies came to a rest. Behind them they left many a dark stain on what had been a beautifully white carpet, stains which the falling flakes did their utmost to cover, as if they were ashamed of this handiwork.
"We have drawn their fire. We have the birds. Charge, mes enfants!"
A slim, short officer, dressed in blue and white uniform, and minus his hat, which had been shot from his head, stood erect for an instant, waving his sword and the pistol he carried in his other hand. Then, turning to face the wall from which the stinging hail of bullets had come so suddenly, he leaped at it, and in a little while was desperately striving to clamber over it.
"Men on the extreme right reload muskets," sang out Steve. "The others use clubbed muskets or tomahawks."
There was no time for more, for the remainder of the attackers had now joined their leader and were already within a few paces of the wall. As Steve leaped to his feet and swung his ponderous musket butt over his shoulder twenty of the enemy were within a couple of yards of him, and in an instant the pistol of the leader was pointing at his head, there was the flash of powder in the pan, a sharp report, and a strange feeling under his cap. The cap rose of a sudden, spun round, and fell at his feet, while Steve grabbed for one brief instant at his scalp and at the locks of hair which had been so neatly shorn from it. Up went his butt, he swung it over his head and brought it down with a crash which broke the Frenchman's guard, wrenched his sword out of his hand, and sent him rolling backwards doubled up like a ball.
"On to 'em, boys. See the Cap'n. Drive 'em back same as he did."
It was Pete's voice which burst in on the babel of shouts which had broken from attackers and defenders, while the burly backwoodsman himself leaped over the wall, his musket swinging over his head and the butt swaying this way and that, clearing a path on every side.
"Up and over the wall," shouted Steve. "Now, send them back."
It was all over in less than a minute, even before the men told off to load their muskets had accomplished that task. One desperate onslaught of the backwoodsmen had sent the Frenchmen rolling, sliding, and tumbling down the steep slope till they were out of sight behind the falling bank of snow. Only their voices could be heard, the cries and moans of the wounded, that and the deep voice of the two cannon which had ceased their fire for one instant as the combatants came to hand grips, and which opened again now, the gunners having learned that the attack had been beaten off.
Thud! One ball struck the rock a foot above Steve's head and covered him with splintered rock and snow. Then came the second. They could hear the whirr of the ball as it rushed through the air, the sound rising to that high-pitched shriek which has made many a recruit, ay, and many an old soldier too, bend his knees and his head and look uncomfortable. Crash! It hit that face of the hollow which had been filled in with branches, thudded against the rocky wall beyond, and then——
There was a terrible explosion, which seemed to shake the hillock, and which threw Steve and his men in all directions. The roof which they had placed over their little fort disappeared amidst the snow-flakes, while the wall in front was shattered, the branches being sent over the wall of snow on to the slope below.
"One to them," said Steve, sadly, as he picked himself up. "That ball must have struck the keg of powder we left in the hollow. Listen to their cheers. They guess that they have damaged us severely. Let us see how many of the men are hurt."
One by one the trappers picked themselves up till only two still lay on the ground.
"Jest stunned and knocked silly, Cap'n," said Jim. "Reckon we're in luck this time. But it air not goin' to snow all day, and when it clears them fellers'll knock us to pieces."
"If they are allowed to continue practice with the guns," answered Steve swiftly. "Boys, the French guns must be put out of action. I am going to spike them, and I want a volunteer. Settle amongst yourselves who is to come, while I get something with which to plug the vents of the cannon."
He pulled his ramrod from its fastening and dived into the dismantled hollow, where a minute's search produced an axe. There was a boulder near at hand and very soon he had cut two six-inch lengths off the rod. By then Mac stood beside him, his snowshoes in his hand, his beard and hair red and flaming against the background beyond.
"Ready and willin', Cap'n," he said.
"Then come," answered Steve easily. "Boys, we'll be back by the morning."
He waved his hand to his comrades, slung his musket, and strode away to the left. A minute later he and Mac had disappeared round the shoulder of the hillock, their dark figures being swallowed up in a whirl of flying flakes.
A blinding whirl of snow hid Steve and Mac from friends and foes alike as they slid from the hummock and made for the back. There was not a sound from their snow-shoes as they progressed, and only distant shouts and whoops from the French and their Indians broke the silence of the wintry day, those and the deep boom of the cannon which now plied their iron shot more rapidly. For the gunners had found the range, and though the snow made accurate aim totally out of the question, yet they took pains not to lose the direction, and in the next quarter of an hour half-a-dozen balls thudded into the hollow.
"The sooner we can put a stop to that the better," said Steve as he halted at the bottom of the hillock. "Up to now we have had luck, but a shot might hit a number of the men, and already the odds are great. How far are we from the forest, Mac?"
"Sure, Oi've no idea, Cap'n. 'Tis mesilf as is scared wid the snow. There's no sayin' where we are."
"There are the guns," answered Steve in a whisper, "and so long as they continue to fire we shall have something to give us the direction. I am sure we are making straight for the forest, and if my calculations are right we should be amongst the trees in a very few moments."
They slid along over the snow again, Steve leading the way. Then a dull wall cut across the white ground in front of him, and with a smothered exclamation of satisfaction he realized that they had reached the friendly shelter of the forest. By then both were covered with snow, and were with difficulty distinguishable at ten paces.
"We have everything in our favour," Steve whispered, halting for a while. Now, I propose that we make round towards the guns and watch to see how many are serving them. If few——"
"Sure we'll rush 'em," burst in Mac, his red beard trembling, so greatly was he excited. "Give the word, sor, and bedad, 'tis mesilf as will charge all alone. Them Frenchies'll never stand."
"Perhaps not. But we must make sure. We must drive them off and allow sufficient time in which to spike the guns. Now, look here, Mac. If we charge them, hold your fire whatever you do. Use the butt or your tomahawk. If they bolt, then sit down and watch for their return. I shall use my axe to drive in the spikes."
There was no need for further arrangement, and so they set off again, this time turning sharp to their left in the direction of the guns. For the cannon still bellowed at intervals, and on one occasion, when the wind blew the whirling flakes aside for a moment, Steve saw the flash distinctly. In a little while the two were bent almost double, for they were within earshot, and presently they halted behind an enormous oak, for the guns were in sight, half-a-dozen dim figures working about them, sometimes in view and sometimes blotted out altogether by the snow. But there were others there also. As Steve and Mac stared at the place, endeavouring to make out the precise surroundings, they became aware that other figures were silently gathering, that the space behind the guns was being filled by a company of blanketed men, from whose scalp locks fell a crest of trailing feathers. The red and white and blue painted faces showed up through the storm, and soon there could not be a doubt that the Indian allies of the French were there. Suddenly a tall figure appeared amongst them and a voice was heard.
"Your chief," said the French officer in his own tongue. "Good. You can understand me and tell your friends. The snow falls heavily, chief."
"It falls," was the response, in passable French.
"And hides us from these pale faces. Now is the time for Hurons to strike with their tomahawks. Let them climb to the back of this hummock and fall upon the pale faces from there. We who have just been beaten back will attack from the front."
There was a minute or more of delay while the Huron chief turned to his comrades. Then he swept round and faced the French officer.
"It is well," he said. "In a short while we shall be there. Will you and your men crawl forward now and wait for our shouts. Then charge, and it may happen that you will find us in possession and these men all slain and scalped."
The officer nodded curtly, and then as Steve and Mac looked on, the band of Indians tossed their blankets aside as formerly and went off in single file. Steve was still gaping with astonishment and dismay as the figure of the last disappeared in the forest.
"They are off to surprise the back of the fort," he whispered. "The question now is, whether we ought to return so as to warn our friends, or whether we should stay."
For a little while the two stared into each other's eyes, for the dilemma was a genuine one, and a decision not to be easily arrived at. Then Mac pushed his tangled moustache from his mouth, scattering the tiny icicles which had gathered there.
"Warn 'em I Sure ye couldn't, me bhoy; thim Injuns'll be in position long before we could get up to 'em. A trapper can't cover the ground quicker than they, and ye may be sure that they'll slip along as though the gintleman himsilf was behint 'em. The bhoys must look to thimsilves. Be chanst they'll have set a watch for our return."
"Then we must leave it like that," answered Steve. "There are too many about here just now, but already the French are moving off. Give them a little while and we'll charge."
They crouched behind the friendly shelter of the oak and watched as the minutes fled by. The French officer waited to see the last of the Indians disappear, and then went off through the snow, his feet splaying out in a manner which showed that he was unused to snow-shoes. They heard his whistle and then the murmur of voices growing fainter. Meanwhile the guns continued their thunder, though the men who worked them could only have guessed at the position of the trappers. Still they were cunning fellows, for they had taken care to provide themselves with a signal which pointed always towards the spot where the hollow lay. They had laid one of the long sponging rods between two forked branches, bolstering up the leading end with lumps of snow till the man who stood beside it had it pointing true. It was a wise precaution which they had taken before the snow commenced to fall, and now Steve watched as the direction was taken from it.
Five minutes later a man who was dressed as a trapper slipped up to the men, spoke a few words, and was gone. Once more the guns belched forth their flame and shot, and then to Steve's joy all but four of the gunners threw off their mittens, snatched up the firelocks piled near at hand, and went off after their friends.
"They have word that the attackers are nearly in position, and that they are not to fire again for fear of hitting their friends," whispered Steve. "Now is the time, Mac. Not a shout, not a sound, remember, till we have the guns. Ready? Then come along."
His axe was gripped in his hand now, while his musket was slung over his shoulder. He slipped like a ghost from behind the oak, and slid across the snow towards the guns. He was within four yards of them when one of the four gunners who had remained, and who up till then had been staring out into the snow, swung round, looked at him for a moment, and then gave a cry of amazement. He seized one of the sponging rods and whirled it above his head, while his comrades at once drew their cutlasses.
"On them boys! Cut them down! There are only four!" shouted Steve, in French. "Charge and we have got them!"
Whether or not the Frenchmen believed that there were more of the trappers behind it would be difficult to state; but the man who had first seen Steve and Mac started back at his words, and lowered his rod. Then as Steve rushed in he swung it up again, whirled it round once, and then struck a tremendous blow which lost all its force in the snow. For Steve had had his eyes open, and, moreover, was as agile as a cat, even with snow-shoes on his feet. He leaped to one side, and then ran in, striking the gunner between the eyes with the shaft of his weapon. Almost at the same instant a cutlass blade swished over his head as a second gunner made a wild cut at him, and striking the barrel of the musket swinging on his back, cut a deep grove into it.
"Ye baste!" shouted Mac, as he brought the butt of his musket against the soldier's head. "Stand back will ye. Will ye dare to sthrike the Cap'n. Ha! So ye're still there. Now, bedad, that's koind of ye, so 'tis."
The red-headed Irishman rushed at the third man with a bellow of rage, lifting his musket as he ran. Then quick as a flash he swung the ponderous weapon at the Frenchman, throwing it so truly that it struck him full in the face and across the chest and sent him to the ground with a thud which could be heard a dozen yards away. And there he lay, the Irishman standing over him, his hair the one prominent feature, for his cap had been jerked from his head. As for the other Frenchman, he bolted as Steve ran to attack him, and was soon out of sight. Our hero at once rushed to the nearest gun, slipped one of his improvised spikes into the vent, and then drove it home with his axe head. Meanwhile Mac had raced forward a few yards, and turning in the direction of the hollow placed one of his capacious hands to his mouth:
"Boys! Jim!" he shouted with all the force of his lungs.
"Ahoy!" came back. "Is that the Cap'n?"
"It is. Boys, kape a watch on the back of the fort. The bastes are wantin' to rush ye; and they're comin' up in front, too!"
There was a distant shout of thanks heard clearly through the frosty air, and almost instantly a musket spoke. Then the whoops of the Indians broke forth, while the French, who were attacking the front of the hillock, joined in the chorus.
"Don't spoike the secind gun, sor," called out Mac, all of a sudden. "Sure we'll turn it on the ruffians ef they come to attack us. Here's powder, and, bedad, here's the bags of bullets with which they charge the craturs."
The Irishman had seen service before, and doubtless he had had some instruction in the loading of guns. He ran the sponge rod down the muzzle of the one which had not yet been spiked, wiped it out, and introduced a charge, while Steve poured a handful of powder over the vent. In another minute they had depressed the sights, and our hero stood beside the gun, panting after his exertions, and holding the muzzle of a pistol taken from one of the Frenchmen across the vent. Meanwhile the musket shot which had been fired from the neighbourhood of the hummock where Steve's men lay had been followed by many sharp reports, and by the din set up by the combatants. Sometimes the flash of the powder could be seen, for the fall of snow was not so heavy now as it had been. Dim figures could be discerned here and there, and presently some dashed towards the guns; for the man who had run for his life as Steve and Mac charged had returned with some comrades determined on capturing the guns again. They arrived within sight of the place to find all in readiness, and the instant they caught sight of Steve, standing ready to receive them, they bolted back again, and darting to the right till out of range of the weapon, went shouting for their friends.