THE RAID FROM BEAUSEJOUR.



CHAPTER I.

"BEAUBASSIN MUST GO!"


On the hill of Beausejour, one April morning in the year 1750 A.D.,
a little group of French soldiers stood watching, with gestures
of anger and alarm, the approach of several small ships across
the yellow waters of Chignecto Bay. The ships were flying British
colors. Presently they came to anchor near the mouth of the Missaguash,
a narrow tidal river about two miles to the southeast of Beausejour.
There the ships lay swinging at their cables, and all seemed quiet
on board. The group on Beausejour knew that the British would attempt
no landing for some hours, as the tide was scarce past the ebb, and
half a mile of red mire lay between the water and the firm green edges
of the marsh.

The French soldiers were talking in loud, excited tones. As they spoke
a tallish lad drew near and listened eagerly. The boy, who was apparently
about sixteen or seventeen years of age, was clad in the rough,
yellow-gray homespun cloth of the Acadians. His name was Pierre
Lecorbeau, and he had just come from the village of Beaubassin to