“What do you want of a knife, child? It is best that you––” There was a fusillade from the brush, and his voice was lost in the uproar. “You must wait below, on the beach. They cannot get to you.”
“It is the canoe, M’sieu. The cloth about the bales is stout,––I can sew it over the hole.”
Menard looked at her as she crouched by his side; her hair fallen about her face and shoulders; her hands, grimy with the clay of the 129 bank, clinging to a wandering root. She was still trembling with excitement, but her eyes were bright and eager. Without a word he drew his knife from its sheath, and held it out. She took it, and was down the slope with a light spring, while the Captain poked the muzzle of his musket through the leaves. As he drew it back, after firing, he caught a glimpse of Danton’s face, turned toward him with a curious expression. The boy laughed nervously, and wiped the sweat from his blackened forehead. “They don’t give us much rest, Captain, do they?” Menard’s reply was jerked out with the strokes of his ramrod: “They will––before long––and we can––take to the canoe. We’re letting them have all they want.” He peered through the leaves, and fired quickly. A long shriek came from the darkness. Menard laughed. “There’s one more gone, Danton.”
The fight went on slowly, wretchedly, shot for shot, Danton himself dragging up a bale of ammunition and serving it to the men. The maid, unaided, had overturned the canoe where it lay, and with quickened breath was pressing her needle through the tough bark. Danton lost the flint from his musket, and crept down 130 the bank to set a new one. Suddenly he exclaimed, “There goes Perrot!”
The old voyageur had, in a fit of recklessness, raised his head for a long look about the woods. Now he was rolling slowly down the slope toward the canoe and the maid, clutching weakly at roots and bushes as he passed. There was a dark spot on his forehead. Menard sprang after, and felt of his wrists; the pulse was fluttering out. He looked up, to see the maid dipping up water with her hollowed hands, and waved her back.
“It is no use, Mademoiselle. Is the canoe ready? We may need it soon.”
She stood motionless, slowly shaking her head, and letting the water spill from her hands a drop at a time.
“Go back there. Do what you can with it.” He hurried up the bank and fell into his place.
“Do you see what they are doing?” asked Danton.
“Playing the devil. Anything else?”