Ducharme had not counted on the strength of the fort, and he knew the town was but poorly supplied with soldiers, so he had persuaded the Indians it would fall an easy prey and give them abundant pillage. But the roar and the execution of the cannon dismayed them, and many of them fled at once. Others marched slowly, helping some of the wounded. General Cartabona came out quite sobered by the fierceness of the attack. “Would it not be well to order a pursuit?” he questioned. “And perhaps fall into a trap!” returned Colonel Chouteau with a touch of scorn. “No, no; let us bring in the wounded as we can.” Gaspard Denys had been among the first to rush to the defence of the town. Marchand had gone out with the party, and Mère Lunde was to care for Renée. He had not stopped to look or inquire. He saw Madame Renaud. “Oh, thank heaven my children are safe! But Barbe! I cannot find Barbe!” she cried. “And Renée?” his voice was husky. “She was with the Marchands. They were going to the woods. Oh, M’sieu Denys, what a horrible thing! And we felt so safe. The Indians have been so friendly. But can you trust them?” He was off to look after the wounded. A number were lying dead on the field. No, Renée was not among them. They carried the wounded in gently, the dead reverently. The good priest proffered his services, and Dr. Montcrevier left his beloved experiments to come and minister to them. The dead were taken to the church and the priest’s house. All was confusion, however. Darkness fell before families were reunited. Children hid away in corners crying, and were too terrified to come out even at the summons of friendly voices. Colonel Chouteau and his brother were comforting, aiding, exhorting, and manning the fort anew. General Cartabona set guards at the gates and towers, for no one knew what might happen before morning. Denys had hurried home as soon as he could be released. “Renée!” he called. “Mère Lunde!” but no one replied. He searched every nook and corner. He asked the Pichous. No one had seen them. A great pang rent his heart. And yet—they might have hidden in the forest. Ah, God send that they might not be taken prisoners! But Marchand was with them. He knew the man’s courage well. He would fight to the death for them. “I must go out and search,” he said in a desperate tone. “Who will accompany me?” A dozen volunteered. They were well armed, and carried a rude lantern made of tin with a glass in one side only. They saw now that their fire had done good execution among their red foes. The trampled ground showed which way the party had gone, and they were no longer in sight. “Let us try the woods. They came by the way of the spring,” said one of the party.