Even as for an instant he lingered beside the river-bank a blood-curdling yell, the war-whoop of the Iroquois, rang across the stream and echoed and re-echoed through the forest. A dozen rifles spattered out their leaden hail, for the conflict had begun at last.
Jack rushed back into the camp and found Major Ridout and the men already in position behind the logs, prepared to receive the enemy as soon as they should burst through that thin line of Algonquin scouts.
"Hullo, Jack!" cried Jamie. "Where have you been? I feared that you were a prisoner. Have you been scouting too?"
"Why, yes! That is, I couldn't sleep, and I thought I saw a curious object in mid-stream and went down to see what it was."
"And what did you find?"
"Well, I could no longer see it when I got there, but just as I was coming away I happened to look up-stream, and I saw three canoes crossing over from the southern bank.
"I wonder why the chief did not discover them before. He seems to have been watching the forest instead of the river! Hullo! What's this?"
The sounds of a desperate struggle, a hand-to-hand fight in the bushes a few yards away, attracted their attention. It was too dark, however, to see anything as yet, although the dawn would be upon them shortly.
"Stand ready, lads!" cried their leader, and every man levelled his rifle in the direction whence the sounds came.
The next moment a wounded Algonquin rushed into the camp, leaping over the abattis, and then rolled over on the ground dead. He was fearfully gashed, and it was evident that an attempt had even been made to scalp him. How he had escaped was a marvel. The yells and war-whoops had ceased now, and for a brief space even the rifles had ceased to speak, and there was a dead silence. The men waited impatiently behind that rude barricade, reserving their fire.