"It's four o'clock and has begun to snow a little. We'll have it cold as blazes by morning." As the fire roared, and the wind whistled about their miserable barracks, he sank away into dreamland again. He had hardly been sufficiently awakened to break the thread of his dreams. His mind however was disturbed by the entrance of the officer, and though he wooed back the gentle dream, it had lost much of its charm and brightness. He saw Morgianna no longer wreathed in sweet smiles; her face was expressive of distress and agony. The joy and sunlight had given place to sorrow and gloom. What had occasioned this change? "Morgianna, do you not love me?" She bowed her head and wept. "What is amiss?" She pointed to her once beautiful home, and he discovered that it was in flames. Painted demons, whose yells seemed to make the earthquake, were dancing about the blazing, crackling building. Then wild cheers came from the ocean, with the boom of a cannon. He saw British marines, headed by Captain Snipes and Lieutenant Matson, leap from boats and rush toward them as they stood on the beach. "Fly! Morgianna, fly!" he cried. She turned to run, and Fernando, all unarmed as he was, wheeled to face the foe. Suddenly there came a rattling crash of firearms. He saw Morgianna throw up her arms, and he sprang toward her, as she fell bleeding at his feet. He uttered a cry of horror and became conscious of some one shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, for Heaven sake, awake! we are attacked!" cried the voice of Captain Rose. On his ear, there still came a confused noise of cries, shouts, reports of firearms and boom of artillery. "Sergeant Stevens, awake!" He sprang to his feet and seized his rifle. The roaring of the battle could be plainly heard, and a cannon-ball came crashing through the top of their miserable shanty. They leaped out to find all in utter confusion. General Winchester, who, despite his faults, was no coward, was mounted on his horse rallying his men at every point. Wells was forming on the open fields, and Lewis, in a very disadvantageous position, was making a strong fight. It was scarcely daylight yet. The air was sharp and frosty; but the snow had ceased falling. Day was dawning; but in the deeper shadows of the wood the night lingered in patches. From the forest came those streams of fire, those storms of grape-shot and the yells of savage demons. A bombshell came screaming through the air and fell into one of the shanties, exploding and scattering the loose boards in every direction. "Who has attacked us?" some of the officers asked Winchester. "Proctor from Malden," was the answer.