“Davy, Davy, what d’ye see!”

Was it a head that broke the line of the crest?  Even as I stared, breathless, half a score of forms shot up and were running madly for the stockade.  Twenty more broke after them, Indians and Frenchmen, dodging, swaying, crowding, looking fearfully to right and left.  And from within the fort came forth a hubbub,—­cries and scuffling, orders, oaths, and shouts.  In plain view of our impatient Deckards soldiers manned the platform, and we saw that they were flinging down ladders.  An officer in a faded scarlet coat stood out among the rest, shouting himself hoarse.  Involuntarily Cowan lined his sights across the woodpile on this mark of color.

Lamothe’s men, a seething mass, were fighting like wolves for the ladders, fearful yet that a volley might kill half of them where they stood.  And so fast did they scramble upwards that the men before them stepped on their fingers.  All at once and by acclamation the fierce war-whoops of our men rent the air, and some toppled in sheer terror and fell the twelve feet of the stockade at the sound of it.  Then every man in the regiment, Creole and backwoodsman, lay back to laugh.  The answer of the garrison was a defiant cheer, and those who had dropped, finding they were not shot at, picked themselves up again and gained the top, helping to pull the ladders after them.  Bowman’s men swung back into place, the rattle and drag were heard in the blockhouse as the cannon were run out through the ports, and the battle which had held through the night watches began again with redoubled vigor.  But there was more caution on the side of the British, for they had learned dearly how the Kentuckians could measure crack and crevice.

There followed two hours and a futile waste of ammunition, the lead from the garrison flying harmless here and there, and not a patch of skin or cloth showing.

CHAPTER XX

THE CAMPAIGN ENDS

“If I am obliged to storm, you may depend upon such treatment as is justly due to a murderer.  And beware of destroying stores of any kind, or any papers or letters that are in your possession; or of hurting one house in the town.  For, by Heaven! if you do, there shall be no mercy shown you.

“To Lieutenant-Governor Hamilton.”

So read Colonel Clark, as he stood before the log fire in Monsieur Bouton’s house at the back of the town, the captains grouped in front of him.

“Is that strong enough, gentlemen?” he asked.

“To raise his hair,” said Captain Charleville.

Captain Bowman laughed loudly.

“I reckon the boys will see to that,” said he.

Colonel Clark folded the letter, addressed it, and turned gravely to Monsieur Bouton.

“You will oblige me, sir,” said he, “by taking this to Governor Hamilton.  You will be provided with a flag of truce.”