"Ah!" exclaimed the sergeant under his breath, "they'll go through
this time. That advance means business!"
In fact, they did go through. At the very foot of the dike a single
volley flashed forth along the whole line, momentarily clearing the top
of the barrier. The next instant the dike was covered with scarlet
figures. Along its crest there was a brief struggle, hand to hand,
and then the braves of Le Loutre were seen fleeing through the smoke.
The Missaguash is a stream with as many windings as the storied Meander,
and about half a mile beyond the lines which the English had just carried
the contortions of the channel brought another and almost parallel ridge
of dike. Over this the flying rout of Micmacs and Acadians clambered with
alacrity, while the English forces halted where they found themselves.
To the little knot of watchers on the knoll the contest had seemed
too brief, the defeat of their people most inglorious.
"As a fighting man monsieur the abbe makes rather a poor show, however
good he may be at burning people's houses!" exclaimed Pierre, in a voice
that trembled with a mixture of enthusiasm for the cause, and scorn
for him who had it in charge.
"You will find, my son," said Lecorbeau, sententiously, "that the cruel
and pitiless are often without real courage!"
"O!" laughed the old sergeant, "I'll wager my boots that His Reverence
is not in the fight at all. It's likely one of his understrappers, Father
Germain, perhaps, or that cutthroat half-breed, Etienne Le Batard,
or Father Laberne, or the big Chief Cope himself, is leading the fight
and carrying out the saintly abbe's orders.
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