“Qui vive?”
She sprang to her feet, and with her gun in her hand ran up on to the bastion.
“Why called you?”
“Listen, Mademoiselle! Dost thou not hear a sound on the river like the splashing of oars?”
“Surely yes; there are voices too. Canst thou tell if they be French or Indian?”
“No; they breathe so low, Mademoiselle.”
Madelon put her hands to her mouth, and called low but clear,—
“Who are you?”
The answer came back in the loved French accents,—
“We are Frenchmen. It is La Monnerie, who comes from down the river to bring you aid.”