We turned to the right, and plunged into the thicket, the way now so black that I grasped his jacket in fear of becoming lost. We were clambering up a slight hill, careless of everything but our footing, when there was a sudden rustling of the low branches on either side our path. De Artigny stopped, thrusting me back, while at that very instant, indistinct forms seemed to leap forth from the covert. It occurred so quickly, so silently, that before I even realized danger, he was struggling madly with the assailants. I heard the crash of blows, an oath of surprise, a guttural exclamation, a groan of pain. Hands gripped me savagely; I felt naked bodies, struggled wildly to escape, but was flung helplessly to the ground, a hand grasping my hair. I could see nothing only a confused mass of legs and arms, but De Artigny was still on his feet, struggling desperately. From some hand he had grabbed a rifle, and swung it crashing into the faces of those grappling him. Back he came step by step, fighting like a fiend, until he stood over me. With one wide sweep of his clutched weapon he struck me free, a blow which shattered the gun stock, and left him armed only with the iron bar. But the battle fury was on him; dimly I could see him towering above me, bareheaded, his clothes torn to rags, the grim barrel poised for a blow. "St. Ann!" he cried exultantly. "'Tis a good fight so far--would you have more of it?" "Hold!" broke in a French voice from out the darkness. "What means this? Are you of white blood?" "I have always supposed so." "A renegade consorting with devils of the Iroquois?" "_Mon Dieu!_ No! an officer of Fort St. Louis." I could see the white man thrust aside the Indian circle, and strike through. His face was invisible, although I was upon my knees now, but he was a short, heavily built fellow. "Stand back! ay, make room. Saint Guise, we are fighting our own friends. If you are of the garrison name yourself." De Artigny, still clasping his rifle barrel, reached out his other hand, and lifted me to my feet. "Perchance," he said coolly, "if I were a stickler for etiquette, I might ask you first for some explanation of this attack. However, we have made some heads ring, so I waive that privilege. I am the Sieur de Artigny, a lieutenant of La Salle's." "_Mon Dieu!_" the other stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "'Tis no unknown name to me, although we have never before met by some chance--I am Francois de la Forest." "La Forest! You were in France three months ago." "Aye; I was there when Sieur de la Salle landed. He told me the whole tale. I was with him when he had audience with Louis. I am here now bearing the orders of the King, countersigned by La Barre at Quebec, restoring De Tonty to command at Fort St. Louis, and bidding De Baugis and that fool Cassion return to New France." De Artigny crushed the man's hand in both his own, dropping the rifle barrel to the ground. His voice trembled as he made answer.