“Thank God for this storm!” murmured Du Lhut.  “It will prevent the cottages from blazing up too quickly.”

But he had forgotten that though the roofs might be wet the interior was as dry as tinder.  He had hardly spoken before a great yellow tongue of flame licked out of one of the windows, and again and again, until suddenly half of the roof fell in, and the cottage was blazing like a pitch-bucket.  The flames hissed and sputtered in the pouring rain, but, fed from below, they grew still higher and fiercer, flashing redly upon the great trees, and turning their trunks to burnished brass.  Their light made the enclosure and the manor-house as clear as day, and exposed the whole long stretch of the river.  A fearful yell from the woods announced that the savages had seen the canoes, which were plainly visible from the windows not more than a quarter of a mile away.

“They are rushing through the woods.  They are making for the water’s edge,” cried De Catinat.

“They have some canoes down there,” said Du Lhut.

“But they must pass us!” cried the Seigneur of Sainte Marie.  “Get down to the cannon and see if you cannot stop them.”

They had hardly reached the guns when two large canoes filled with warriors shot out from among the reeds below the fort, and steering out into mid-stream began to paddle furiously after the fugitives.

“Jean, you are our best shot,” cried De la Noue.  “Lay for her as she passes the great pine tree.  Lambert, do you take the other gun.  The lives of all whom you love may hang upon the shot!”

The two wrinkled old artillerymen glanced along their guns and waited for the canoes to come abreast of them.  The fire still blazed higher and higher, and the broad river lay like a sheet of dull metal with two dark lines, which marked the canoes, sweeping swiftly down the centre.  One was fifty yards in front of the other, but in each the Indians were bending to their paddles and pulling frantically, while their comrades from the wooded shores whooped them on to fresh exertions.  The fugitives had already disappeared round the bend of the river.

As the first canoe came abreast of the lower of the two guns, the Canadian made the sign of the cross over the touch-hole and fired.  A cheer and then a groan went up from the eager watchers.  The discharge had struck the surface close to the mark, and dashed such a shower of water over it that for an instant it looked as if it had been sunk.  The next moment, however, the splash subsided, and the canoe shot away uninjured, save that one of the rowers had dropped his paddle while his head fell forward upon the back of the man in front of him.  The second gunner sighted the same canoe as it came abreast of him, but at the very instant when he stretched out his match to fire a bullet came humming from the stockade and he fell forward dead without a groan.

“This is work that I know something of, lad,” said old Ephraim, springing suddenly forward.  “But when I fire a gun I like to train it myself.  Give me a help with the handspike and get her straight for the island.  So!  A little lower for an even keel!  Now we have them!” He clapped down his match and fired.