Like an arrow from the bow, I shot around the
Agency comer, and raced for the stockade, De Croix,
running like a deer, barely a foot behind me. I never
dreamed, in that moment of intense action, that Burns
was not also coming, — that he had deliberately sacri-
ficed himself in order to hold back the savages and give
us the better chance for life. Behind arose the sound
of struggle, but there was no indication of pursuit, and
as I rounded the end of the stockac^e the lower gate
swung open just before me and I glanced back, half
pausing as I realized the old borderer had not followed
us; then some one tripped me, and I fell headlong.
With a sudden rush, De Croix swept by.
** France wins. Monsieur i '' he cried back in mock-
ing triumph, as I staggered to my knises.
170



CHAPTER XVII



A CONTEST OF WITS



HOUGH I was never of

hast? or violent temper, it
was quite as well that I
failed to gain a sight of
De Croix as I passed the
posts and the sentry clanged
the gate behind me. The
Frenchman's scurvy trick
would have heated cooler
blood than mine; nor was my spirit soothed by the
harsh fall I suffered. But De Croix had not waited;
nowhere along the bare sunlit parade was he visible.
I saw nothing but a squad of grinning soldiers loung-
ing beside the barracks, tmtil Captain Wells, issuing
from the guard-house door, caught sight of me and
came forward.
