“Come, Laviolette,” she called to a French half-breed who was hired to work about the fort, “bring some lines and perhaps we can catch fish enough to serve for a meal.”
They were busily engaged in this peaceful sport, when suddenly the sound of firing was heard in the neighbourhood of the place where the settlers were at work in the fields.
“Run, Mademoiselle, run! The Iroquois are coming,” screamed Laviolette, and taking her by the hand, they fled towards the fort.
“Can we reach it, dost thou think?”
“Courage, Mademoiselle! we are almost there,” replied Laviolette; and so the Iroquois thought also, since they gave up the chase of the flying girl, and contented themselves with firing at her and her companion. As the bullets whistled by, she prayed aloud,—
“Holy Marie, save us!” and as the words inspired her with fresh courage, she shouted as she neared the fort,—
“Help, help, to arms!” Her wild call was not heard, and at the very gate itself were two sobbing women who from the battlement of the fort had seen their husbands murdered in the field, and stood wringing their hands in misery.
“Oh, come within, come in, think of the children”; and as she spoke, Madelon pushed the two women in before her, and with the aid of Laviolette shut the heavy gate.
“Where are the soldiers?” was her next question.
“Hidden in the blockhouse, sister”; and Louis, the elder of the two boys, came to meet his sister with a gun in his hand. They ran together to the blockhouse, and there, sure enough, were the two men, crazed with fear, and one of them holding in his hand a lighted fuse.