“I'll give you five minutes by the clock.” Donald drew out the queer gold watch that was an heirloom, and held it in his hand while the seconds ticked away. Seguis talked rapidly to his followers.
“Time's up!” Donald snapped at last, shoving the watch back into the fur-lined pocket of his jacket. “What are you going to do? Will you put down your arms peaceably, or shall I fire?”
“Fire and be hanged!” was the instant reply, as Seguis raised his own gun.
Instantly, the ten rifles behind the barricade barked as one. But, in the same second, as though by preconcerted signal, the forty men at the edge of the forest dropped flat on the snow, and the bullets whistled over them. The next moment, they had leaped to their feet, and scrambled into the shelter of trees and brush.
“Well, boys, we're in for it now,” said Donald cheerfully, happier now that battle offered than he had been for many weeks. “They've got us at a disadvantage, and the odds are four to one, so every shot must count.”
“Right-o!” rejoined Timmins, and fell to whistling through his back teeth, a sure sign with him of complete satisfaction.
Then began a grilling wait. Occasionally, a dark form would appear among the trees, speeding from shelter to shelter, and the guns of the besieged would ring out sharply into the still air. More than once, the bullets went home, and the runner leaped into the air with a yell, and rolled over and over upon the snow.
“They're surrounding us,” said Donald calmly. “I hate to do it, but we'll have to use these furs after all, and a fur with a bullet hole in it isn't worth anything.”
He called for volunteers to help him arrange the protection, and, when everyone spoke, told off alternate men to keep the enemy covered while the others worked. The bales of pelts were frozen into the rigidity of iron, and would form an excellent defense, but they were not now in the proper position for this. It was necessary for the men to crawl out over the low line that lay to their rear, and lift other bales back into the “trench” that was formed by the log barricade.
The free-traders in the woods were aware of this necessity for exposure, and waited until a man started on his venturesome journey. Then, they all blazed away at once. McTavish was the first to expose himself. He returned with a bullet hole in his cap, and minus a generous share of one boot-heel. Then, strategy was resorted to. A man would make a feint of rushing from cover. Instantly, the heads of the men in the woods would appear, lying along their gun-barrels, and, in the same instant, the bullets from the barricade would fly thick. After one such feint, three of the enemy did not reappear, and then the foe began to grow cautious, never knowing when the appearance of a head out of the trench meant a feint or an expedition.