unearthly in such, headlong blind speed through
such weather.

"The Labrador folks are plucking their
geese some," observed Willy Kendal; "we're
most smothered with the feathers."

I could not help smiling, though there was, in
truth, good cause for being serious. The winter
had set in too recently for the ice to have attained
that comfortable "two yard" thickness in which
Canadians delight. There were places where
it groaned and quivered, bending like a floor
of springy planks; there were other places
where small gaps or cracks intervened, causing
the Stormswailow to rock and reel as she flew
over the dangerous spot like a hunter over a
ditch. To lie to was now impossible, and
while the furious squall lasted we were hurried
along, without seeing a yard ahead of us.
Presently the gale subsided, or more probably
passed on towards the Upper Lakes, and we saw
the snow-clouds break and scatter, and the
bright stars glimmer overhead. The wind
became moderate, and the cutter was once more
under control.

"Where are we?" was my first inquiry.

My young companion looked around with a
puzzled air.

"Crimp me like a shadfish if I can tell you,
Mr. Mills! Better ask old beads and blankets
there. Indians have the eyes of cats."

Elk-that-runs, who had not said one word
since we started, but had gravely kept his pipe
alight through the elemental strife, composedly
made answer to my inquiry:

"Pale chief no can see? Dat (pointing over
his shoulder) Bald Point, dere, lower down, is
Voyageurs' Spit, where trees, and light you take
for star, Hamilton."

"That beats all," cried Willy. "I thought I
knew old Ontario a few, but the redskin whips
me clean. See, lieutenant, there is the Spit,
with something waving that may be trees, or
may be feathers, for anything I can tell from
here; but the Indian's right. Yon is Hamilton,
though how we've run the distance in the time
I can't guess. That puff of wind was some
pumpkins!"

Hamilton it really was, to our great joy, and
in about half an hour we were within a short
distance of the shore, and heard the hail of a
sentry, "Who goes there?"

Of course I had not the countersign, but
replying "A friend," I jumped out upon the ice,
and approached the sentry: opening my wraps
to show my uniform. Thus I managed to be
passed on to the guard-house, and thence to the
commandant's quarters. By this time the stars
were getting pale, and there was an intense
chill in the air, and a grey tinge in the eastern
sky that heralded the dawn. Major Lee was
aroused from sleep, and came down half-dressed
to meet me. The fine old soldier exhibited
unusual emotion and discomposure when he
learned my tidings.

"The defences are in wretched condition, by
no fault of mine," said he. "It is in vain that
I have urged them for months, at head-quarters,
to spare us guns and engineers. But I don't
mean to yield, Mr. Mills, on the first summons,
I can assure you."

"I should be sorry to recommend such a
step," said I; "and yet, major, this is one of
those cases in which courage can hardly avail
much. The Americans know your weakness, be
assured, and their own strength. They are no
clement conquerors, and their Mohawk allies are
under no sort of discipline. If the fort should
be stormed—-"

"There it is, sir," said the old officer, pacing
up and down the room in considerable agitation.
"I am sorry for the poor fellows who wear the
king's cloth, but they and I are soldiers, and
must take our chance. But my daughter and
my sister—and yet I have no means of sending
them away. The roads are deep with mountains
of drifted snow; no sleigh could run, no horse
could struggle through. They would perish
long before they were in sight of Toronto."

A bright idea flashed upon me.

"Major, you forget the Stormswailow. She
will carry several persons, and Willy Kendal
and the Indian guide can make shift to
navigate her back to Port Hope. Put your
daughter on board her, put Mrs. Harrison on
board, put every soldier's wife and child on
board, and let them trust to Providence and the
care of my comrades. I can then stop here.
You won't be sorry to have an extra man, and
we'll endeavour, by hook or by crook, to give a
warm reception to the enemy."

An animated though brief debate followed.
Major Lee readily consented to my first
proposal, but he would not hear of my remaining.

"You must go," said he. "Remember, I commit
my daughter and her aunt to your care,
and you are responsible to me for their security.
A pretty thing, that I should suffer you to stop
here and get knocked on the head, when you
don't even belong to the regiment, and when
your leave is only for eight-and-forty hours! As
commandant of Fort Hamilton I order you, sir, to
return to Port Hope—and no more words about
it, my dear boy. My heart will be lighter when
the women are gone, and perhaps I may think of
some plan for checkmating the assailants."

The major was obliged to use both authority
and persuasion to induce his daughter to leave
him in peril. She clung to his side, wound her arms
round his neck, and adjured him to let her stay,
or to go with her—a thing, of course, impossible
to be done without a breach of duty, which the
veteran would not have been guilty of to save
his life a score of times. Luckily, Mrs. Harrison,
the aunt, was animated by her own fears
into acting with the energy of selfishness, and
she assisted in almost forcing the weeping girl
on board the ice boat. With them went a negro
woman servant, Susannah by name, and five
soldiers' wives, their frightened children holding to
their skirts. Two of these women were very
reluctant to leave their husbands, but motherly
apprehensions for the safety of their children
when the Mohawks should win the fort,
prevailed at last. The soldiers behaved very well