“Morgianna, do you not love me?”

She bowed her head and wept.

“What is amiss?”

She pointed to her once beautiful home, and he discovered that it was in flames.  Painted demons, whose yells seemed to make the earthquake, were dancing about the blazing, crackling building.  Then wild cheers came from the ocean, with the boom of a cannon.

He saw British marines, headed by Captain Snipes and Lieutenant Matson, leap from boats and rush toward them as they stood on the beach.

“Fly!  Morgianna, fly!” he cried.

She turned to run, and Fernando, all unarmed as he was, wheeled to face the foe.  Suddenly there came a rattling crash of firearms.  He saw Morgianna throw up her arms, and he sprang toward her, as she fell bleeding at his feet.  He uttered a cry of horror and became conscious of some one shaking his shoulder.

“Wake up, for Heaven sake, awake! we are attacked!” cried the voice of Captain Rose.

On his ear, there still came a confused noise of cries, shouts, reports of firearms and boom of artillery.

“Sergeant Stevens, awake!”

He sprang to his feet and seized his rifle.  The roaring of the battle could be plainly heard, and a cannon-ball came crashing through the top of their miserable shanty.

They leaped out to find all in utter confusion.  General Winchester, who, despite his faults, was no coward, was mounted on his horse rallying his men at every point.  Wells was forming on the open fields, and Lewis, in a very disadvantageous position, was making a strong fight.  It was scarcely daylight yet.  The air was sharp and frosty; but the snow had ceased falling.  Day was dawning; but in the deeper shadows of the wood the night lingered in patches.

From the forest came those streams of fire, those storms of grape-shot and the yells of savage demons.  A bombshell came screaming through the air and fell into one of the shanties, exploding and scattering the loose boards in every direction.

“Who has attacked us?” some of the officers asked Winchester.

“Proctor from Malden,” was the answer.

It was just as day began to dawn, that Proctor, with his combined force of British, Canadians and Indians, attacked the Americans, while Fernando was still lost in the mazes of a troubled dream.  With his right covered with artillery, and his flanks with marksmen, Proctor advanced at first gallantly; but when he approached within musket-shot of the pickets, he was met by such a galling and incessant fire, that the centre of his army fell back in confusion.  On the left, however, he was more successful.  Perceiving the exposed situation of the detachment under Wells, Proctor hastened to concentrate all his forces against it.  A furious conflict ensued on this part of the field.  Sharp and rapid volleys followed in quick succession from either side, while high and clear above the terrible din of battle, rose the war-whoop of savages and the wild cheers of the Kentuckians.  That little band, unprotected as it was, could not long hold out against overwhelming numbers.  The sun rose over the bleak woods, and, after a short fight of twenty minutes, Winchester ordered Wells to fall back and gain the enclosures of Lewis.