The next moment the boom of guns overhead told that the French camp had been alarmed.

The regular soldiers would be upon them in a few minutes, driving them back to the fort, killing and wounding, and leaving the Indians to butcher and scalp at their leisure.

The fearful war whoop was ringing in their ears.

The line wavered--broke; the men made a frantic rush backwards towards their lines.
"Don't fly!" cried Roche suddenly to Fritz, at whose side he marched; "let us cut our way through, or die doing it.

It is death whichever way we turn.