went further up the creek, where it took a north-easterly direction, and
widened into a sort of lake. Those that had first arrived began to
follow the new-comers, and we did the same.

Suddenly the baying of hounds was heard. "Hurra! there are dogs; men
must be near." A volley from a dozen rifles was the answer to our
explanation. The shots were fired not two hundred yards from us, yet we
saw nothing of the persons who fired them. The wild beasts around us
trembled and crouched before this new danger, but did not attempt to
move a step. We ourselves were standing in the midst of them up to our
waists in water. "Who goes there?" we shouted. Another volley, and this
time not one hundred yards off. We saw the flashes of the pieces, and
heard voices talking in a dialect compounded of French and Indian. We
perceived that we had to do with Acadians. A third volley, and the
bullets whistled about our ears. It was getting past a joke. "Halt!"
shouted we, "stop firing till you see what you are firing at." There was
a dead silence for a moment, then a burst of savage laughter. "Fire!
fire!" cried two or three voices.

"If you fire," cried I, "look out for yourselves, for we shall do the
same. Have a care what you are about."

"Morbleu! Sacre!" roared half a score of voices. "Who is that who dares
to give us orders? Fire on the dogs!"

"If you do, we return it."

"Sacre!" screamed the savages. "They are gentlemen from the towns. Their
speech betrays them. Shoot them--the dogs, the spies! What do they want
in the prairie?"