Brigadier Wolfe faced the tall young officer for a second, and coolly shook him by the hand, gripping his left, for Steve had his hilt in the right. The sight of such an act of coolness brought a frantic shout from the men. Steve turned to look at them for one brief moment, and noted the set expression of their faces, the grim, determined looks, the gaping nostrils and the heaving chests. Then, as the brigadier waved his cane, he faced the enemy again, and with a shout went on at the head of the men. A huge Frenchman, armed with a ponderous musket, suddenly shot up from behind a barricade, brought his piece to his shoulder, and aimed at our hero. There was a flash, the powder in the pan spluttered up into smoke, while the bullet swept within an inch of Steve's head, thudding heavily on something just behind him. "Ef I don't get even with that ere chap, why, I ain't Huntin' Jim," shouted a voice at his elbow. "Jest wait a minute. Ha! Yer'd shoot me down. That's jest to make yer remember that I ain't so soft as to fall 'cos a bullet's happened to strike me." [Illustration: "IN ANOTHER SECOND HE HAD BAYONETTED THE FRENCHMAN"] It was Jim undoubtedly, all his old backwoods coolness gone, all his cunning and his Indian ways forgotten in the excitement of this moment. His eyes were wide open, his lips set close together, while rage was written on every feature. The stolid hunter had been struck through the fleshy part of one arm, and the sting of the wound had served only to increase his excitement. With a bound he passed Steve, and in another second he had bayonetted the Frenchman, bringing the grenadier to the ground with a terrific crash. By then the head of the column was up at the batteries, and for a few moments a desperate hand to hand contest was fought, while the gunners endeavoured to fire their charges of grape into the midst of the rear of the column. However, English bayonets had before then driven the French off the field, and on this occasion our gallant fellows were not to be denied. They drove those of the enemy who dared to remain out of their rifle pits with their murderous bayonets, broke down and shattered their defence, and sent them racing for the fortress. Nor did that entirely satisfy them. They broke into more open order, and with Jim and Mac and Steve to lead, chased those fugitives to the very gates of the fortress, till reinforcements poured out of Louisbourg, and until the cannon of the fortress began to ply them with shot. Only then did they deign to retire, showing a defiant face to the enemy, now outnumbering them by many hundreds.