"I am sorry, sir," said Sergeant Gray to Pembroke, "but 'tis all up with me." The poor fellow staggered against the wall, and in a few moments all was indeed over with him. A chance shot had pierced his chest.
"Peste! If this keeps up," said Pierre Noir, "there will not be many of us left by morning. I never saw them fight so well. 'Tis a good watch we'll need this night."
In fact, all through the night the Iroquois tried every stratagem of their savage warfare. With ear-splitting yells they came close up to the stockade, and in one such charge two or three of their young men even managed to climb to the tops of the pointed stakes, though but to meet their death at the muzzles of the muskets within. Then there arose curving lines of fire from without the walls, half circles which terminated at last in little jarring thuds, where blazing arrows fell and stood in log, or earth, or unprotected roof. These projectiles, wrapped with lighted birch bark, served as fire brands, and danger enough they carried. Yet, after some fashion, the little garrison kept down these incipient blazes, held together the terrified Illini, repulsed each repeated charge of the Iroquois, and so at last wore through the long and fearful night.
The sun was just rising across the tops of the distant groves when the Iroquois made their next advance. It came not in the form of a concerted attack, but of an appeal for peace. A party of the savages left their cover and approached the fortress, waving their hands above their heads. One of them presently advanced alone.
"What is it, Pierre?" asked Law. "What does the fellow want?"
"I care not what he wants," said Pierre Noir, carefully adjusting the lock of his piece and steadily regarding the savage as he approached; "but I'll wager you a year's pay he never gets alive past yonder stump."
"Stay!" cried Pembroke, catching at the barrel of the leveled gun. "I believe he would talk with us."
"What does he say, Pierre?" asked Law. "Speak to him, if you can."
"He wants to know," said Pierre, as the messenger at length stopped and began a harangue, "whether we are English or French. He says something about there being a big peace between Corlaer and Onontio; by which he means, gentlemen, the governor at New York and the governor at Quebec."
"Tell him," cried Pembroke, with a sudden thought, "that I am an officer of Corlaer, and that Corlaer bids the Iroquois to bring in all the prisoners they have taken. Tell him that the French are going to give up all their prisoners to us, and that the Iroquois must leave the war path, or my Lord Bellomont will take the war trail and wipe their villages off the earth."