“I wanted to help to defend the fort,” she answered in faltering tones, “but Mr. Carew stopped me—”
“I fortunately met Miss Hatherton,” I broke in, “and urged her to go back.”
“Quite right,” said the factor. “It is not a woman’s part to fight. Your place is in the house, Flora.”
Without a word she turned and glided rapidly through the snow. Griffith Hawke hesitated, and then started to follow her; but he had not made two steps when a cry rang loudly from the northeast watch-tower:
“The redskins are coming! The clearing is alive with them! Every man to his post!”
The alarm was not a false one, for immediately a fiendish clamor and whooping broke out and scores of musket shots blended in a rattling din. The attack seemed to be directed entirely against the east side, and to that quarter the two of us ran fleetly.
“Spare guns this way!” the factor shouted at the top of his voice. “Stand firm, men!”
The scene that followed baffles description. There was no panic or fright, nor did the men entirely desert the other sides of the fort for the threatened point; but all who could be spared rallied to the north. I felt sure that this second rush would be a more serious business than the first, and I was not mistaken.
I quickly reached the stockade—I did not see what had become of Griffith Hawke—and managed to squeeze my way through to one of the loopholes. At grave risk—for the fire was already heavy on both sides—I peered briefly out. Through the smoke and snow I saw the dusky warriors advancing in great numbers and at close quarters, filling the air with their infernal yells. Some carried felled saplings with the branches lopped off short, the purpose of which was plain.
One glimpse was enough. I began to fire with my comrades, reckless of the bullets that whizzed about me. From angle to angle of the north stockade, from the embrasures of the tower, poured a deadly sheet of flame. A howitzer crashed, and then a swivel gun. I fired three times—spare muskets were passed to me—and I drew back from the loophole to reload. By the ruddy flashes I recognized friends—Baptiste and Captain Rudstone, Griffith Hawke and Andrew Menzies, the excited countenance of Christopher Burley in the rear.