One of the arrows shot last had got a good hold between the logs of the roof and was burning at a lively rate. “We ought to have some water,” said Joseph Morris. “Snow will do,” answered the old frontiersman, and taking up a good-sized chunk, he hurled it at the arrow. His aim was good and the fire was blotted out. Then others took up handfuls of snow, and as soon as the burning arrows appeared, covered them completely; so that that new danger was quickly past. The Indians under Moon Eye had hoped much from their burning arrows and were deeply chagrined to see them put out so easily. They sent out half a hundred or less and then ceased operations. “The snow has aided them,” grunted the chief in disgust. “We must try some other plan.” “Why not get a battering ram and ram down the gate?” asked Benoit Vascal of Jean Bevoir, in French. The Frenchman suggested this to Moon Eye. The Indian leader was willing, provided the Frenchmen would use the ram, leaving the Indians to enter the post after the gate was down. During the early part of the evening, another band of red men and several Frenchmen had come up, friendly to Moon Eye and to Bevoir. They joined forces with those besieging the post, making those without much stronger than before. Jean Bevoir promised the Indians and his countrymen all sorts of things if they would aid in capturing the post and in killing all the whites found defending it. The plan to batter down the gate was carefully made. A fair-sized tree was cut down and trimmed off, leaving just enough of the branches to make good handles. This battering ram was brought up in the forest in a direct line with the stockade gate. At the front was placed a shield of loose branches and bark. It the meantime, it was decided that six Indians should go to the rear of the post and make a demonstration there, shouting loudly and firing their guns and arrows,—doing this to draw the attention of the post defenders to that point. When the alarm was at its height, the battering ram was to be used with all force and as swiftly as possible. The moment the gate was down, Indians and Frenchmen were to rush into the post grounds and slaughter all who opposed them. Having eaten his supper after the others, Sam Barringford walked around the entire stockade, questioning all who were on guard. Nobody had seen either a Frenchman or an Indian, although constantly on the alert. “Tell ye wot I heard though,” said one frontiersman to Barringford. “I heard ’em choppin’ down a tree over yonder.” “Sure it war a tree, Collins?” asked the old frontiersman, with interest. “I am.” “Humph!” Sam Barringford said no more, but went straight to Joseph Morris. “We want to watch thet gate harder nor ever,” he announced. “Why, Sam?” “They have been cuttin’ down a tree.” “Ha! Do you think they wish to use it for a battering ram?” “Don’t know wot else they’d want it fer. Anyway, it won’t hurt to watch the gate extry well.”