Outnumbered, helpless for long in that narrow space, their only hope lay in a sortie by the garrison, and it was my part to give the alarm. Even as I sprang forward, a savage leaped from the ruck, but I escaped his hand, and raced up the dark trail, the one thought urging me on. God knows how I made it––to me ’tis but a memory of falls over unseen obstacles, of reckless running; yet the distance could have been scarce more than a hundred yards, before my eyes saw the darker shadow of the stockade outlined against the sky.
Crying out with full strength of my voice I burst into the little open space, then tripped and fell just as the gate swung wide, and I saw a dozen dark forms 290 emerge. One leaped forward and grasped me, lifting me partly to my feet.
“Mon Dieu! a woman!” he exclaimed in startled voice. “What means this, in Heaven’s name?”
“Quick,” I gasped, breaking away, able now to stand on my own feet. “They are fighting there––two white men––De Artigny––”
“What, Rene! Ay, lads, to the rescue! Cartier, take the lady within. Come with me you others.”
They swept past me, the leader well in advance. I felt the rush as they passed, and had glimpse of vague figures ’ere they disappeared in the darkness. Then I was alone, except for the bearded soldier who grasped my arm.
“Who was that?” I asked, “the man who led?”
“Boisrondet, Francois de Boisrondet.”
“An officer of La Salle’s? You then are of his company?”
“I am,” a bit proudly, “but most of the lads yonder belong with De Baugis. Now we fight a common foe, and forget our own quarrel. Did you say Rene de Artigny was in the fighting yonder?”