“And the fort?”
“Short rifle shot away. Once past this party, and the way is easy. Here is my thought Barbeau. There is no firing, and this party of wolves are evidently hidden in ambush. They have found the trail, and expect some party from the fort to pass this way.”
“Or else,” said the other thoughtfully, “they lie in wait for an assault at daylight––that would be Indian war.”
“True, such might be their purpose, but in either case one thing remains true––they anticipate no attack from below. All their vigilance is in the other direction. A swift attack, a surprise will drive them into panic. ’Tis a grave risk I know, but there is no other passage to the fort.”
“If we had arms, it might be done.”
“We’ll give them no time to discover what we have––a shot, a yell, a rush forward. ’Twill all be over with before a devil among them gets his second breath. Then ’tis not likely the garrison is asleep. If we once get by there will be help in plenty to hold back pursuit. ’Tis a desperate chance I admit, but have you better to propose?”
The soldier stood silent, fingering his gun, until De Artigny asked impatiently:
“You have none?”
“I know not the passage; is there no way around?”