spaces were comparatively clear of rebels. In a couple
of hours another dawn would break over that vast land of
frozen rivers and virgin snows to witness scenes of
bloodshed and pillage, the news of which would flash
throughout the civilised world, causing surprise and
horror, but which it would be powerless to prevent. By
this time the stores which had burned so brilliantly on
the previous night were dully glowing heaps of ashes.
The tom-toms had ceased their hollow-sounding monotones
so suggestive of disorder and rapine, and the wild yelpings
of the fiend-like crew had given place to the desultory
howling of some coyotes and timber-wolves that had ventured
right up to the outskirts of the village, attracted by
the late congenial uproar. They were now keeping it up
on their own account. Farther away to the east, in the
mysterious greyness of the dreary scene, lay the Fort,
while in the ribbed, sandy wastes around, and in the
clumps of timber, the cordon of rebels watched and waited.

As the fugitives looked back at the edge of the bluffs
to catch one last glimpse of a scene that was to leave
its mark on Canadian history, a rocket shot high into
the heavens, leaving behind it a trail of glowing sparks
and exploding with a hollow boom, shedding blood-red
balls of fire all around, which speedily changed to a
dazzling whiteness as they fell. It was a signal of
distress from the beleaguered Fort to any relieving column
which might be on its way. Then away to the north, as if
to remind man of his littleness, the Aurora borealis
sprang into life. A great arc or fan-like glory radiated