and then by the aid of the great scow which served for a ferry at high
tide, the tireless abbe had managed to coax or threaten nearly every
inhabitant of the village. His Indians stalked after him, apparently
heedless of everything. His few allies among the Acadians, who had
assumed the Indian garb for the occasion, scattered themselves over
the settlement repeating the abbe's exhortations; but the villagers,
though with anxious hearts, held to their cabins, refusing to stir,
and watching for the English boats to come ashore. They did not realize
how intensely in earnest and how merciless the abbe could be, for they
had nothing but hearsay and his angry face to judge by. But their
awakening was soon to come.

Early in the afternoon the tide was nigh the full. At a signal from
the masthead of the largest ship there spread a sudden activity
throughout the fleet, and immediately a number of boats were lowered.
For this the abbe had been waiting. Snatching a blazing splinter
of pine from the hearth of a cottage close to the church, he rushed
up to the homely but sacred building about which clustered the warmest
affections of the villagers. At the same moment several of his followers
appeared with armfuls of straw from a neighboring barn. This inflammable
stuff, with some dry brush, was piled into the porch and fired by the
abbe's own hand. The structure was dry as tinder, and almost instantly
a volume of smoke rolled up, followed by long tongues of eager flame,
which looked strangely pallid and cruel in the afternoon sunshine.
A yell broke from the Indians, and then there fell a silence, broken
only by the crackling of the flames. The English troops, realizing
in a moment what was to occur, bent to their oars with redoubled vigor,
thinking to put a stop to the shameless work. And the name of Le Loutre
was straightway on their lips.