as a reason, the utter impossibility of his sending a single man to
their rescue.

"Here is no deception!" exclaimed Duncan, examining the billet both
inside and out; "this is the signature of Webb, and must be the captured
letter."

"The man has betrayed me!" Munro at length bitterly exclaimed; "he has
brought dishonor to the door of one where disgrace was never before
known to dwell, and shame has he heaped heavily on my gray hairs."

"Say not so," cried Duncan; "we are yet masters of the fort, and of our
honor. Let us, then, sell our lives at such a rate as shall make our
enemies believe the purchase too dear."

"Boy, I thank thee," exclaimed the old man, rousing himself from his
stupor; "you have, for once, reminded Munro of his duty. We will go
back, and dig our graves behind those ramparts."

"Messieurs," said Montcalm, advancing toward them a step, in generous
interest, "you little know Louis de St. Veran if you believe him capable
of profiting by this letter to humble brave men, or to build up a
dishonest reputation for himself. Listen to my terms before you leave
me."

"What says the Frenchman?" demanded the veteran, sternly; "does he make
a merit of having captured a scout, with a note from headquarters? Sir,
he had better raise this siege, to go and sit down before Edward if he
wishes to frighten his enemy with words."