upheld its own rights at any cost.

The Abenaqui girl stood under the north-west bastion, letting
early night make its impressions on her. Her motionless figure,
in indistinct garments, could not be seen from the river; but she
discerned, rising up the path from the water, one behind the other, a
row of peaked hats. Beside the hats appeared gunstocks. She had never
seen any English, but neither her people nor the French showed such
tops, or came stealthily up from the boat landing under cover of
night. She did not stop to count them. Their business must be with
Saint-Castin. She ran along the wall. The invaders would probably see
her as she tried to close the gate; it had settled on its hinges, and
was too heavy for her. She thought of ringing the chapel bell;
but before any Abenaqui could reach the spot the single man in the
fortress must be overpowered.

Saint-Castin stood on his bachelor hearth, leaning an arm on the
mantel. The light shone on his buckskin fringes, his dejected
shoulders, and his clean-shaven youthful face. A supper stood on the
table near him, where his Etchemin servants had placed it before they
trotted off to the camps. The high windows flickered, and there was
not a sound in the house except the low murmur or crackle of the
glowing backlog, until the door-latch clanked, and the door flew wide
and was slammed shut again. Saint-Castin looked up with a frown, which
changed to stupid astonishment.

Madockawando's daughter seized him by the wrist.

"Is there any way out of the fort except through the gate?"