He blew out the candle in his own, and reaching up a hand, lowered the light until it was all but extinct. As he did so his hood fell back and the lamp-rays illumined his upturned face for two or three seconds; a tired face, pinched just now with hard living and wakefulness, but moulded and firmed by discipline. Fifteen years had bitten their lines deeply about the under-jaw and streaked the temples with grey. But they had been years of service; and, whatever he had missed in them, he had found self-reliance. He stepped out upon the pent of the _hangar_, and, with another glance up at the night, plunged into the deep snow, and trudged his way down to the barricade. "Sergeant McQuarters!" "Here sir!" The Highlander saluted in the darkness, "Any word from up yonder, sir?" A faint glow touched the outline of his face as he lifted it toward the illuminated citadel. "The Governor looks for an assault to-night. So you know me, McQuarters?" "By your voice, sir," answered McQuarters, and added quaintly, "Ah, but it was different weather in those days!" "Ay," said John, "we have come around by strange roads; you an artilleryman, and I--" He broke off, musing. For a moment, standing there knee-deep in snow, he heard the song of the waters, saw the forests again, the dripping ledges, the cool, pendant boughs, and smelt the fragrance of the young spruces. The spell of the woodland silence held him, and he listened again for the rustle of wild life in the undergrowth. "Hist! What was that?" "Another squall coming, sir. It's on us too, and a rasper!" But, as the snow-charged gust swept down and blinded them in its whirl, John leaned towards McQuarters and lifted his voice sharply. "It was more than that--Hark you!" He gripped McQuarters' arm and pointed to the barricade, over which for an instant a point of steel had glimmered. "Back, man!--back to the guns!" he yelled to the sentry. But the man was already running; and together the three floundered back to the _hangar_. Behind them blows were already sounding above the howl of the wind; blows of musket-butts hammering on the wooden palisade. "Steady, men," grunted McQuarters as he reached the pent. "Give them time to break an opening--their files will be nicely huddled by this." John a Cleeve glanced around and was satisfied. Captain Chabot had his men lined up and ready: two ranks of them, the front rank kneeling. "Give the word, my lad," said Captain Barnsfare cheerfully, lintstock in hand. "Fire then!--and God defend Quebec!" The last words were lost in an explosion which seemed to lift the roof off the _hangar_. In the flare of it John saw the faces of the enemy--their arms outstretched and snatching at the palisade. Down upon them the grape-shot whistled, tearing through the gale it outstripped, and close on it followed the Canadians' volleys. Barnsfare had sprung to the second gun. McQuarters nodded to him. . . .