"Listen to that fer cannon," said Jim, who sat beside Steve, his musket, now provided with a bayonet, set upright between his legs. "I've never in all the course of my days heard the like of it. It's thunder and worse." "Our men are just giving the French in the fortress a taste of what they have in store for them," laughed Steve. "But take a look at the cove, Jim. Those are guns there, and there must be a large force of men ready to receive us." "Then the more the merrier, lad. I've fought behind trees many a score of times. I've been shut in a fort with a couple of hundred redskin varmint howlin' and firin' outside, but I've never in all my days tried my hand at this sort of thing. Somehow we rangers think we're better soldiers than air these here reg'lars. But I ain't so sartin. No doubt when it's a war with braves, or a fight in the forest, we're the best boys at the game. But out here, a job of this sort ain't done by hanging behind trees and rocks. It wants a rush, and to make that a man has to have downright pluck. Yes, I'm beginnin' to see that a reg'lar has got heaps o' grit when he fights in his own way, and as he's been taught. Whew! Did yer feel that?" Steve did. It was the shot from one of the French batteries which, now that the boats were within some hundred yards, opened on the flotilla suddenly. The shot, round and grape, hissed and hummed through the air, and striking the water for the most part, sent up cascades which blew away in spray, drenching many of the occupants of the boats. Had that cove been sheltered it is probable that Wolfe's division would have suffered terribly, for there were twelve hundred Frenchmen waiting for their attack, and they had many guns. But this barren, rockbound coast gave little or no shelter, and it happened that a big swell was running, which made correct aim impossible, and a hit more a matter of chance than of skill. And so it turned out that little damage was done. The bellow of the cannon was answered by a derisive cheer, and at once the boats' crews bent to their oars and raced for the narrow beach. "Thunder! That air wuss nor bullets," sang out Jim, half rising to his feet, for this was a weird and new experience for the hunter. "Reckon another of them bangs and there won't be much of this crowd left to fight. Cap'n, it air clean mad to keep out here in the open when there's a bit of a rock thar that'll shelter us from them guns and give a landing at the same time." This time the trapper got to his feet, in spite of the shouts of the ensign in command of the regulars aboard the boat, and as if to show how right he was, there came the crash of a second discharge, round shot and ball, hurtled about the boats, striking some of the men, and splashing foam and spray everywhere.