Perrot was frightened by his stern words, and he succeeded in holding up an end of the canoe, while Menard pushed him down the slope to the water's edge. They rushed back, and in a few trips got down most of the stores. By this time Perrot was sobering somewhat, and with the Captain he took his place in the line. The men were shooting more frequently now, and by their loose talk showed increasing recklessness. Calling to Danton, Menard finally made them understand his order to fall back. Before they reached the bank, Colin dropped, with a ball through the head, and was dragged back by Danton. They dropped behind logs and trees at the top of the slope. It began to look as if the redmen were to get no closer, in spite of the drunken condition of all but one or two of the men. Though the night was now much brighter, they were in the shadow, and neither the Captain nor Danton observed that the brandy which the transport men had supplied was passing steadily from hand to hand. They could not know that the boy Guerin lay on his back amid the attacking Onondagas, an arrow sticking upright in his breast, one hand lying across his musket, the other clasping a flask. The maid had not moved. She could be easily seen now in the clearer light, and Menard went to her, feeling the need of giving her some work to occupy her mind during the strain of the fight. "Mademoiselle," he whispered. She looked up. He could see that she was shivering. "I must ask you to help me. We must get the canoe into the water. They will soon tire of the assault and withdraw; then it will be safe to take to the canoe. They cannot hurt you. We are protected by the bank." He helped her to rise, and she bravely threw her weight on the canoe, which Menard could so easily have lifted alone, and stood at the edge of the beach, passing him the bundles, which he, wading out, placed aboard. But suddenly he stopped, with an exclamation, peering into the canoe. The maid, dreading each moment some new danger, asked in a dry voice, "What is it, M'sieu?" For reply he seized the bundles, one at a time, and tossed them ashore, hauling the canoe after, and running his hand along the bark. The maid stepped to his side. There was a gaping hole in the side of the canoe. She drew her breath in quickly, and looked up at him. "It was Perrot," he muttered, "that fool Perrot." He stood looking at it, as if in doubt what to do. Up on the bank the men, Danton and Father Claude among them, were popping away at the rustling bushes. Suddenly he turned and gazed down at the maid's upturned face. "Mademoiselle," he said, "I do not think there is danger, but whatever happens you must keep close to me, or to Danton and Father Claude. It may be that there will be moments when we cannot stop and explain to you as I am doing now, but you must trust us, and believe that all will come out well. The other men are not themselves to-night--"