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.
"Get that sponging rod under the edge of the sledge, Mac," sang out Steve, a smile of confidence on his lips. "Ten chances to one they will rush us from another direction, and we must be ready to slew the gun round and fire. Yes. Here they come, this time from the right."
As quickly as possible the rod was thrust under the runner of the sledge which carried the gun, and with a heave Mac slewed it round till the muzzle pointed towards the spot from which the French were coming. He dug it again into position, and then waited, ready to move the sights still further if necessary.
"Jest a little lower wid the muzzle, sor," he sang out. "That's the way. Give 'em the charge rhight in their faces, and thin, bedad, we'll be for lavin'."