There was no reply to this speech until the Indians were hidden once more by the bushes, and then a voice cried:
"Give us the cow and two boys. Then we will go away, telling the Frenchmen that all have been killed."
"You shall not have the smallest chicken inside this stockade!" Mark cried, angrily. "And I promise that there shall be few left to report to the cowardly Frenchmen, if you remain here very long. You shall be shot down like dogs, and from this out our squaws will not interfere to let you carry off those who have been crippled!"
While speaking, Mark had unconsciously raised himself to his full height, instead of being partially sheltered by remaining in a crouching position, as during the short fight, and the reply to his words came in the form of bullets, one of which grazed his cheek, raising a red ridge, as if he had been scored by a whip-lash.
Susan and Luke both fired in the direction from which had been seen the flash of the muskets, but no one could say if the missiles thus sent at random took effect.
Five minutes later, while the watchers still gazed through the crevices of the palisade, believing the enemy to be near at hand, a canoe was seen putting off from the shore, directly in front of the dwellings, and, after such delay as was necessary, in order to enable them to reach the other craft, all three divisions of the attacking force were headed for the harbor island.
The first assault had been made, and successfully resisted. It now remained to be seen whether the Abenakis were willing to accept this as defeat, of if new tactics were to be tried.
"They've gone!" Susan cried, joyfully. "We've beaten them!"
"Yes child," her mother said, despondently, "and if they had not been sent by Frenchmen, we might believe the worst was over."