"Call the men, and draw them close in a circle." Menard felt his way toward the fire, where a few red embers showed dimly, and roused Danton with a light touch and a whispered caution to be silent. Already he could hear the low stir of the _engages_ as they slipped nearer the fire. He walked slowly toward the river, with one hand stretched out in front, to find the canoe. It was closer than he supposed, and he stumbled over it, knocking one end off its support. The maid awoke with a gasp. "Mademoiselle, silence!" he whispered, kneeling beside her. "I fear we are attacked. You must come with me." He had to say it twice before she could fully understand, and just then an arrow sang over them, and struck a tree with a low _thut_. He suddenly rose and shouted, "Together, boys! They will be on us in a moment. Close in at the bank, and save your powder. Perrot, come here and help me with the canoe." There was a burst of yells from the dark in answer to his call, and a few shots flashed. Danton was rallying the men, and calling to them to fall back, where they could take cover among the rocks and trees of the bank. The maid was silent, but she reached out her hand, and Menard, catching her wrist, helped her to her feet, and fairly carried her down the slope of the bank, laying her behind the tangled roots of a great oak. Already the sky was clearer, and the trees and men were beginning to take dim shape. The river rushed by, a deeper black than sky and woods, with a few ghostly bits of white where the foam of the rapids began. "Stay here," he whispered. "Don't move or speak. I shall not be far." She clung to his hand in a dazed manner, but he gently drew his away, and left her crouching on the ground. The men were calling to one another as they dodged back from tree to tree toward the river, shooting only when a flash from the woods showed the position of an Indian. Some of them were laughing, and as Menard reached the canoe Perrot broke into a jeering song. It was clear that the attacking party was not strong. Probably they had not taken into account the double guard, relying on the death of the sentry to clear the way for a surprise. "Perrot!" called the Captain. "Why don't you come here?" The song stopped. There was a heavy noise as the _voyageur_ came plunging through the bushes, drawing a shower of arrows and musket balls. "Careful, Perrot, careful." "They can't hit me," said Perrot, laughing. He stumbled against the Captain, stepped back, and fell over the canoe, rolling and kicking. Menard sprang toward him and jerked him up. He smelled strongly of brandy. Menard swore under his breath. "Pick up your musket. Take hold of that canoe,--quick!"