And immediately the cry, a familiar enough one in those days, was taken up on all sides. The crowd stiffened, and the attack upon the center became more determined than ever. The little company formed a circle, and standing back to back, held their ground for a time. “Make for the wall. Keep together,” cried De Lacy, pushing out toward the side, and followed by his company. But, one by one, the Ottawas were being dragged down and trampled beneath the “corked” boots of their foes, till only two of them, with their leader, beside Harry and De Lacy, were left. At length the wall was gained. There they faced about and for a time held their lives safe. But every moment fresh men rushed in upon them, yelling their cries, “Gatineau! Gatineau! A bas les Anglais!” The Ottawa leader was panting hard, and he could not much longer hold his own. His two companions were equally badly off. Harry was pale and bleeding, but still in good heart. The lieutenant was unmarked as yet, and coolly smoking his cigar, but he knew well that unless help arrived their case was hopeless. “We can't run,” he remarked, calmly, “but a dignified and speedy retreat is in order if it can be executed. There is a shop a little distance down here. Let us make for it.” But as soon as they moved two more of the Ottawas were dragged down and trampled on. “It begins to look interesting,” said the lieutenant to Harry. “Sorry you are into this, old chap. It was rather my fault. It is so beastly dirty, don't you know.” “Oh, fault be hanged!” cried Harry. “It's nobody's fault, but it looks rather serious. Get back, you brute!” So saying, he caught a burly Frenchman under the chin with a straight left-hander and hurled him back upon the crowd. “Ah, rather pretty,” said the lieutenant, mildly. “It is not often you can just catch them that way.” They were still a few yards from the shop door, but every step of their advance had to be fought. “I very much fear we can't make it,” said the lieutenant, quietly to Harry. “We had better back up against the wall here and fight it out.” But as he spoke they heard a sound of shouting down the street a little way, which the Ottawa leader at once recognized, and raising his voice he cried: “Hottawa! Hottawa! Hottawa a moi!” Swiftly, fiercely, came the band of men, some twenty of them, cleaving their way through the crowd like a wedge. At their head, and taller than the others, fought two men, whose arms worked with the systematic precision of piston-rods, and before whom men fell on either hand as if struck with sledge-hammers. “Hottawa a moi!” cried the Ottawa champion again, and the relieving party faced in his direction. “I say,” said the lieutenant, “that first man is uncommonly like your Glengarry friend.”