"It's a great game," he said, and a moment
afterwards, in response to his roars, Bissonnette came up the hatch with
his gun showing bravely; then again and again, now with his cap, now
without, now with his coat, now with none, anon with a tarpaulin over his
shoulders grotesquely. Meanwhile Tarboe trained his one solitary little
cannon on the enemy, roaring his men into place.
From the tug it seemed that a large and well-armed crew were ranging
behind the bulwarks of the Ninety-Nine. Mr. Martin, the inspector, saw
with alarm Bissonnette's constantly appearing rifle.
"They've arranged a plant for us, Mr. Lafarge. What do you think we'd
better do?" he asked.
"Fight!" answered Lafarge laconically. He wished to put himself on
record, for he was the only one on board who saw through the ruse.
"But I've counted at least twenty men, all armed, and we've only five."
"As you please, sir," said Lafarge bluntly, angry at being tricked, but
inwardly glad to be free of the business, for he pictured to himself that
girl at the tiller--he had seen her as she went aft--in a police court at
Quebec. Yet his instinct for war and his sense of duty impelled him to
say: "Still, sir, fight!"
"No, no, Mr. Lafarge," excitedly rejoined his chief. "I cannot risk it.
We must go back for more men and bring along a Gatling. Slow down!" he
called.
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