"Maybe so," Nat replied; "but I don't think so. When chaps don't attack at once, when there are four or five to one, I reckon that they ain't likely to attack at all. They meant to surprise us, and they haven't, and it seems to me as it has taken all the heart out of them."
As evening approached, the fire ceased. At nightfall, strong guards were placed round the entrenchments, and the troops retired to their quarters, ready to turn out at a minute's notice.
About midnight they were called out. There was again a sound on the lake. The cannon at once opened, and, as before, all was silent again.
"Look, Walsham, look!" Edwards exclaimed. "They have set fire to the sloops."
As he spoke, a tongue of flame started up from one of the two vessels lying in the ice, close to the shore, and, almost simultaneously, flames shot up from among the boats drawn up on the beach.
"That's redskin work," Nat exclaimed.
"Come, lads," James cried, leaping down from the low earthwork into the ditch. "Let us save the boats, if we can."
The scouts followed him and ran down to the shore; but the Indians had done their work well. The two sloops, and many of the boats, were well alight, and it was evident at once that, long before a hole could be broken through the ice, and buckets brought down from the fort, they would be beyond all hopes of saving them.
The French, too, opened fire from the woods bordering the lake, and, as the light of the flames exposed his men to the enemy's marksmen, James at once called them back to the fort, and the sloops and boats burned themselves out.
At noon, next day, the French filed out from the woods on to the ice, at a distance of over a mile.