There was a pause in the firing, then a hoarse murmur of excited voices came from the sheds.  It rose like a sudden storm on the Lake of the Winds.  There was a wild volley and a rush of feet.  A dark body smashed in the casement and tried to follow it, but Rory’s long knife gleamed in the air, and the intruder fell back in his death agony.  Rory seldom wasted powder and shot at close quarters.  The sergeant looked at the girl strangely.

“Come with me to your father,” he said hoarsely.

“Is it the end?” she asked.

“I fear it is,” he replied; “but we’ll fight to the finish.”

He opened the door and led the way out.

“I must go to the others,” he continued.  “Rory can guard this end of the house.  Will you come with me?”

“Yes, and remember your promise—­I am not afraid.”

“I am,” he admitted, “but not of them.”

They reached the kitchen, but he would not let her enter.

“Stay where you are for a moment,” he commanded firmly.

He found Douglas and Jacques still holding the doorway, though the door itself, and the table which had been placed against it, were badly wrecked.  A breed had actually forced his body through a great rent when they had rushed, but Jacques had tapped him over the head with the stock of his rifle and cracked it as he would have done an egg-shell.  The lifeless body still filled the gap.

“Bravo, gentlemen,” cried the sergeant, “we shall exact our price.  If we can only stand them off a little longer—­”

The words died on his lips as a rattle of musketry awoke somewhere in the neighbourhood of the surrounding ridges.  It grew in volume until it seemed all around them.  Several bullets struck the house that did not come from those immediately attacking.  A series of wild whoops could be heard from among the pines on the hillside, and they came nearer and nearer.

“It’s Child-of-Light and his Crees!” cried Pasmore.  “He saw the new lot approaching and waited until they fell into the trap.  Now he has surrounded them.”

“Thank God!” cried the rancher, and never had he breathed a more sincere thanksgiving.

The breeds and Indians made back for the out-buildings; then, realising that sooner or later these must prove untenable, they scurried for the pine wood on the hillside.  But now Child-of-Light and his braves were on the ridges and a desperate running fight ensued.  Not more than a dozen of the enemy managed to get safely away.  For hours afterwards they held their own from the vantage of the rocks and pines.