Under Wolfe's Flag; or, The Fight for the Canadas

by Rowland Walker

  *CHAPTER XIX*

  *THE AMBUSH AT SENECA FALLS*

  What new danger threatened them now? As they drew ashore at a spot wherethe bushes parted to allow the rock to jut into the water, Jamie wasabout to inquire from the Indian youth what was the matter, and how hehad managed to strike their trail again, at a moment when perhaps theymost needed his presence, but a low "Hist!" which came from the darkfigure upon the rock, silenced him. Evidently the lad had feared fortheir safety, and at great peril had come to save them, or at any rateto make them conscious of the approaching danger.

  Silently, they landed on the margin of the forest, and crept ashore.The rustle of a leaf, the snapping of a twig might betray their presenceto a lurking scout, though as yet they knew not what danger threatened.

  "The Wacondah has made Swift Arrow his messenger, in order to save ourscalps. Swift Arrow will now speak," whispered the hunter.

  Then in a low, soft, musical voice, untouched by excitement at thenearness of danger, or emotion at seeing his friends again, the Indianpointed to the dark headland, scarce a hundred yards further along thelake, and said--

  "Swift Arrow has kept watch for his friends. There is the Algonquincamp, and their scouts are close to us; watching both the lake and theforest. A singing-bird has spoken to them, and they think White Eagleis behind them. Before daybreak, they will enter the Seneca River, atthe outlet of the lake, on their way back to the Canadas."

  "But must we remain here till they are gone?" asked Jamie.

  "No," smiled the youth. "Swift Arrow will now lead his paleface friendsout of danger, and pilot them safely to the spot where the White Eagleawaits the Algonquins, at the portage by the Seneca Falls."

  Saying this, he stepped into the canoe and took the paddle, motioningthe others to lie down in the bottom of the craft, and then noiselesslypushed off from the bank. The Indian did not attempt to continue theformer direction, but paddled cautiously back a little way, hugging theshore; then he struck directly across the lake, which is here about twomiles broad, and having approached the opposite bank, he turned the headof the canoe once more towards the outlet of the lake, and paddledswiftly.

  This manoeuvre succeeded perfectly, and they got away unobserved.Taking turns at the solitary paddle, they soon reached the outlet, andentered the swift stream which takes its name from the lake. Now theywere piloted swiftly and safely past the rapids, aided only by the lightof the stars, and the daring skill of the Indian.

  Two hours before dawn, a dull roar fell upon their ears. It was thecataract, where the whole river tumbles in a frenzy of froth and foamdown a chasm of fifty feet, forming the far-famed Seneca Falls.

  The canoes were drawn to the bank at the portage, and as they steppedashore, the dark, shadowy forms of several painted warriors emerged fromthe cover of the trees. They were the Iroquois scouts, who were keenlywatching for the approach of the enemy. Then a powerful and haughtychief confronted them. It was the White Eagle himself, but the sternstoicism of his countenance relaxed for a moment as he greeted his twopaleface friends.

  "The paleface hunter is welcome to the camp of the Iroquois. Many moonshave passed since White Eagle and his friend hunted the red deer, andstruck the trail of the moose together," said the chief.

  "The home of the Grey Badger is in the wigwams of the Iroquois, and whenhe has struck his Canada enemies, he will return to his seat at thecouncil fire of the White Eagle," replied the hunter.

  "Ugh! It is well! I feared that the Canada snakes had charmed away myfriend, but then I remembered that the Grey Badger is too great awarrior to permit his scalp to hang upon the poles of their lodges."

  "It was a mighty close shave this time, chief. I didn't expect to seemy red friends again."

  "Bah! The river is now netted for the Canada salmon. My braves willtake 'plenty' scalp before another sunset. Come! My warriors willwatch."

  A couple of Indians took up the canoe and carried it to the other end ofthe portage, while several others eliminated from the soft bank themarks made by the bow of the boat and the prints of the moccasins. Thisprecaution was adopted to prevent an alarm being given to theAlgonquins, who were shortly expected. Then the party retired withinthe precincts of the forest, there to await the coming of the dawn.

  Dawn came at last--towards the sun-rising a faint yellow streak lit upthe horizon. Next, a saffron tint flushed the sky, and then the starsfaded and disappeared, as the gates of the morning were unbarred, and ahundred streamers of flashing, roseate hues flooded the blue vault ofheaven. Myriads of songsters awoke the stillness of the forest, for theday had come, and the dark curtain of night rolled westward.

  Another two hours passed, and then the hawk-eyed vigilance of thewatchers was rewarded by a first glimpse of the enemy. The dull,constant roar of the cataract in their ears prevented their hearing thesound of the approaching paddles, or the crunching of their birch-barkcanoes upon the beach, but long ere this, the Iroquois scouts hadreported the enemy in sight, and every one was ready for the approachingfight.

  The portage was a short one, and the chief had spread his warriors overthe whole length in order to prevent the escape of any of theAlgonquins. A few scouts headed the party, then came the Indianscarrying the five canoes, and after them, the two prisoners, their armsbound with thongs, walking between a couple of braves with tomahawks intheir hands.

  Every one now eagerly awaited the signal for the combat. The advanceparty had reached a point about half-way over the ground, when theshrill scream of an eagle rose in the air. At the same instant, theclatter of a dozen rifles, and the fierce war-cry of the thirtyIroquois, burst upon the ear. The very trees about the unfortunateAlgonquins seemed to turn into frenzied warriors, who, brandishing theirtomahawks, rushed upon their foe. The canoes were thrown to the ground,and in the confusion which followed, brave deeds were done. A fiercehand-to-hand fight ensued, but the Algonquins, mowed down by that firstfire, and hopelessly outclassed, were driven nearer and nearer to thatperilous brink, where leapt the mighty cataract into the foaming rapidsand whirlpools below.

  A few bold spirits, rather than leave their scalps in the hands of theirenemies, leapt into the chasm beneath, and were never seen again. Exceptthese, not a soul escaped the vengeance of the Iroquois.

  The two braves in charge of the prisoners were the first to fall, forfrom their first landing they had been covered by the rifles of thehunter and Jamie. The latter then drew his hunting-knife from itssheath, and rushing forward, cut the thongs that bound the twoprisoners, and quickly drew them out of the _melee_ into a place ofsafety, and left the contest to the Iroquois, for he had no doubtwhatever of what the result would be, and taking scalps was not exactlyto his liking.

  Meanwhile, the White Eagle wielded his tomahawk with all the strengthand fury of an Iroquois chief. He fought his way to where Red Wolf washeading and encouraging his braves, and hewed him down. It was quicklyover, and in less than a quarter of an hour the Iroquois were masters ofthe field.

  "Thanks, Jamie! You have saved my life, and I can never repay you. Ihad given up all hope of escape. So rigidly were we watched that therewas not the slightest opportunity for us to gain our freedom. We wereto have been tortured and put to death at sunset, at soon as we hadreached the shambles of Fort Oswego, for you know the French have takenthe place, after a dreadful slaughter, and now claim to be masters ofboth shores of the lake. Still, all that is past now, and I am thankfulto be with my friends once more. Jamie, old fellow, how can I thank youfor all this?"

  "You've had a narrow squeak, Jack, but you must thank the hunter here,and Swift Arrow, who I believe has not taken food since you were made aprisoner. Come!" and Jamie led his old comrade towards the others.

  "Let me introduce you to the 'Great Paleface Hunter' who held your trailtill the White Eagle could arrive with his braves."

  "What! the Grey Badger, the friend of the chief?"

  "The same. He is a
mighty paleface, and I have learnt to love himalready. He is the most renowned hunter in all the forests south of thelakes."

  So, while the Indians harvested the spoils of the enemy, the threepalefaces lit a fire, and cooked a breakfast from a large salmon,speared in the river below, satisfied the pangs of hunger at a spot alittle apart from the braves, near by the lower end of the portage, andthen talked for an hour about all the news that had filtered through theforest relative to the great conflict, which was already raging sofiercely on both banks of the St. Lawrence.

  The youths listened with pent-up feelings, while the hunter told all hehad heard from passing _voyageurs_ and Indian runners of the disastersthat had befallen the English arms of late. He described the disasterof Ticonderoga, the fall of Fort Oswego, and the partial success ofDieskau, but when he spoke of the capture of Fort William Henry and thefrightful massacre which followed, the lads sprang to their feet, anddeclared in one breath--

  "We will go and offer our services to General Wolfe, for our countryneeds us!"

  The light of battle was in their eyes, the courage of manhood mounted totheir brows, as they clasped each other's hand across the fire, andrepeated their promise to join the English lines; then, turning to thetrapper, who remained seated by the fire, smoking calmly and puffing theblue smoke from an Indian calumet, Jamie said--

  "Say, hunter! Will you join us on yet another trail, where the gameshall be, not redskins, but the recreants of Montcalm, and the reward,not Indian scalps, but the honour of the old flag, or--a soldier'sgrave?"

  "Lads," he replied, "my country has not been over kind to me. I am anexile from my native land, and yet I have never committed a crime. Myconscience is clear; but I, too, feel my country's call, and I know herneed, and it shall never be said of me that I shirked the call of duty,when already so many exiles have left their bones to bleach in theforest, for the land that has denied to them a hearth and a home. Iwill go! Let us bid good-bye to the chief and his braves."

  The parting scenes between the White Eagle and the hunter, the palefaceyouths and their Indian friends, was affecting in the extreme, when itbecame known that they were now about to part, and perhaps for ever. Allthe rich memories of their forest life were brought back to them, and tothe palefaces especially the fidelity of their red brothers, their loftycharacters, despite their many failings, their simple faith in the GreatSpirit, the Wacondah of their race; their comradeship in hunting the reddeer and the shaggy brown bear amid all the savage scenery of mountainand forest, and taking from the streams and lakes the salmon and thesturgeon, or descending wild rapids and torrents in their frailbirch-bark canoes, with these children of the Manitou--all this theyrecalled, and forsook it with a pang of regret; but another voice wascalling to them, and their beating hearts were but responding to thecall of Duty.

  At last, they stood by their canoe ready to depart, at the lower end ofthe portage, below the Falls; and the Indians were standing around them,sad and melancholy, for their grief had for once broken down their manlyreserve, and the stoic mask, which had enabled some amongst them toendure torture without flinching, could not now keep back the moisturefrom many an eye.

  Listen! the great chief, in prophetic strain, is speaking his lastsolemn words of farewell--

  "The face of the Manitou is hid behind a cloud, and the hearts of hisred children are sad. Nevermore will the Great Paleface Hunter, thefriend of the White Eagle, hunt the deer in the hills of the Iroquois.Nevermore will he sit at the council fire of my people, and smoke thecalumet, while his red brothers listen to the wisdom that falls from hislips like the dew from heaven. Nevermore will he speak to us of thesacred writings that the Wacondah has given to the children of theSun-rising!

  "When his canoe has sailed into the regions of the East-wind, then shallmy people be scattered like the leaves in autumn, and the few thatremain, to fish the streams and hunt the moose and the elk, will be butas blasted pines, where the fires of the forest have raged."

  "Nay, chief! The sun will shine again, and I shall return if theManitou wills it," urged the hunter, as he flicked the water impatientlywith his paddle.

  "The Wacondah has said it! My paleface brother shall nevermore lookupon the face of the White Eagle."

  "Then I shall look for my red friend in the happy hunting-grounds of theManitou. Good-bye!"

  The next moment the canoe shot into the stream, and began to descendrapidly towards the great lake. A last long look was cast behind, alast adieu waved to their friends, who stood watching till they passedfrom view, then the low murmur of the Falls ceased as they sped on theirway.

  Soon, they passed the ruins of Fort Oswego, and entered Lake Ontario.Then they stretched across the lake to the Thousand Islands, and enteredthe St. Lawrence and stole quietly past the French post at FortFrontenac. Then for hundreds of miles they were carried by the swiftcurrent of the Canada River, down past Mont Royale, and the mouth of theOttawa River, past Trois Rivieres, until one day they heard the soundsof heavy firing, as though a battle were in progress.

  'Twas early in September 1759, and the guns of Quebec were firing at theEnglish ships and batteaux, as they passed the citadel, to gain theupper reaches of the river. As they passed the next bend in the river,they saw the French warships which had retreated up the stream, awayfrom those terrible English. They also perceived on the heights to theleft, in the vicinity of Cape Rouge, the sentries of Bougainville'sdetachment, and here they ran a narrow escape of capture, being taken bythe French for spies.

  Before sunset on the eleventh of September, they espied with great joy,on the southern bank, the white tents and the red coats of Wolfe's army.

  *CHAPTER XX*

  *THE PLAINS OF ABRAHAM*

  "Halt! Who goes there?"

  It was a burly Highlander, an outpost sentry of the British army, thatchallenged the three paleface scouts.

  "Friends!" cried Jamie.

  "Then ye'll just gi'e me the password," replied the soldier, levellinghis musket at the youth who had acted as spokesman.

  "I do not know the password," said Jamie, boldly confronting thelevelled firearm. "We have just come in from the frontier to offer ourservices to General Wolfe."

  "Then ye'll just ground your arms, and bide a wee, till I call thesergeant!"

  The sergeant in charge of the party came up in response to the sentry'scall, and while he was engaged in conversing with the strangers, anaide-de-camp to General Wolfe, who was a field officer in the RoyalAmericans, galloped by. Seeing three men in the garb of the forest, andknowing the value of such hardy, trained frontiersmen, having seen agood deal of such service himself, he reined in his charger, receivedthe salute of the sergeant, who, on being requested, reported thebusiness of the strangers.

  "Look here! Do you fellows know anything of Quebec, or the river andthe forts?" asked the field officer.

  "Yes, sir!" replied Jamie. "Two of us lived there for nearly twelvemonths as nominal prisoners of the French."

  "Indeed? When did you leave there?"

  "Last spring, sir."

  "Do you know the river this side of the city?"

  "Every creek and cove, sir, between Cape Rouge and the narrows."

  "That will do! Shoulder your rifles and come with me."

  Then, putting as much dignity into their carriage as their roughappearance would permit, the three scouts followed the officer. Theypassed through several lines of sentries, but they were not challengedfurther, as the aide-de-camp gave the password at each barrier.

  They soon entered the inner camp and passed between rows of white tents.Groups of Highlanders, Anstruthers, and Grenadiers in their scarletuniforms were sitting about the camp-fires, seeing to their equipment,cooking rations, etc. Others were just landing from the transports andbatteaux which lay in the river opposite the camp.

  Despite their deer-skin shirts, Indian moccasins and beaver caps, therewas a deep bronze upon the faces of the strangers
, and a keen alertnessabout their movements, and especially their eyes, that bespoke them realscouts of the backwoods and pioneers of the Empire, with an experiencethat few could boast, even amongst those five thousand red-coats thatwere the flower of the British army; and many a soldier lifted his eyesto gaze after them as they passed by.

  Having reached the vicinity of the General's tent, the field officerhanded them over to an orderly of Monckton's Grenadiers, with orders tofind them quarters and rations until the General expressed his pleasureconcerning their offer of service.

  All that day they remained in the camp, but no message came from thecommander. Evidently he was busy with more important duties, and couldnot be bothered about the services of a few rude frontiersmen; but nextmorning, towards noon, the field officer returned in person and said--

  "General Wolfe desires to speak with you. Come with me!"

  Jamie's heart beat wildly at the thought of speaking with this greatsoldier, the darling and the genius of the whole army. They arrived atthe large tent which served as the head-quarters of the staff. A sentrybarred the way till the password was repeated, and then, following theofficer, they entered, Jamie first, then Jack, and last of all thehunter.

  All three quickly brought their hands to the salute as they stood beforea large table, at which sat three officers of high rank. They wereGenerals Murray, Monckton and Townshend, and although unknown to theyouths, who wondered which of the three was Wolfe, they have each leftan honoured name on the scroll of Empire.

  But who was that pale, ascetic-looking invalid, reclining on a couchbeside General Murray? Surely he was no soldier! He was weak andsickly, and appeared to be suffering from some painful malady. What washe doing here? wondered Jamie, giving him a passing glance, and thendirecting his attention to the three officers, who were conversingamongst themselves, and examining charts and maps with such intensitythat they scarcely seemed as yet to have noticed the newcomers.

  Suddenly the invalid on the couch said something, and instantly thethree soldiers ceased their conversation, dropped the charts and maps,and listened to his every word with marked reverence and respect.

  "Murray," he said, "which are the two scouts who were prisoners inQuebec till last spring? Let them come to me."

  The aide-de-camp indicated Jamie and Jack, and then General Murrayapproached them and said--

  "Step forward! General Wolfe desires to speak with you," at the sametime making a respectful gesture in the direction of the couch.

  "General Wolfe! Could that feeble person be the great soldier on whomEngland relied to win the Canadas from the French?" thought Jamie, as hestepped forward and saluted the invalid. He was amazed and dumfounded.It was well for him at that moment that he had learnt something of theIndian virtue of hiding his feelings, or his face might have shownsomething of his disappointment.

  "Why, you are quite a lad! Come, let me look at you! There, that willdo! I like your face, and yours, too."

  "Thank you, General!"

  "Now tell me what you know of Quebec, and when you landed there, andwhen you left, and how."

  Then Jamie, acting as spokesman for the two, told him briefly butclearly his history, commencing with the sea-fight, his capture, and howhe spent his time at Quebec, his adventure with the Iroquois on the St.Lawrence, and his escape by the steep pathway that led up on to thePlains of Abraham, and how that Jack had accompanied him in that and allthe other adventures he had met with on the frontiers.

  "Good!" exclaimed the General, into whose eyes the fire had leapt as thelad described his adventures, especially the fight with the Frenchfrigate.

  "Pass me that chart of the river and the Plains, Monckton. There, thatwill do! Just show me, lad, the spot where you landed that day andclimbed to the Plains. Here, take hold of this chart!"

  Jamie took the chart, spread it out on the ground, and knelt down by thecouch.

  "There," he said, pointing to a tiny dent in the northern shore, "is thespot where we made our escape. It is a league or so above the city."

  "And if I sent you down there with a boat in the dark, could you find itagain?" said the General in a soft voice.

  "Yes, sir, I could!"

  "And if I ordered you to land a boat-load of soldiers on the top of thecliffs there before dawn to-morrow morning, how would you set about it?"

  Jamie flushed with pride at the thought of such a commission, but heanswered quietly and firmly--

  "General, if you trusted that boat to me I would wait till the secondebb tide to-night, then, under cover of darkness, I would drop down withthe current, keeping in mid-stream till nearly opposite the cove, then,edging in to the northern bank, I would run the boat ashore at theinlet, and lead the men up on to the Plains two hours before dawn."

  "By George, Townshend, he'll do! Let him have a seat in the first boat,and his companions too. But see that they are kept in charge of theorderly, and not permitted outside the lines till I send for them."

  "Yes, sir."

  "By the way, Monckton, is there a guard at that point above the cove?"

  "Vergois' guard is stationed there, sir. It is part of Bougainville'scommand."

  "My lad," said the General, half rising from the couch and putting hishand on Jamie's shoulder, "it is a very important duty that I amentrusting to you to-night. I am going to put you in the first boat,along with the other guides, as your knowledge of the spot may beuseful, and it is of the first importance that we should not pass thatcove in the darkness. The safety of the British army, to a greatextent, will be entrusted to you, and perhaps--who knows?--the destinyof Canada. You will be kept under the charge of the orderly tillnightfall, as there are plenty of spies about the camp. If you do yourduty this night, your King and your country will be grateful to you.Good-bye!"

  Darkness came at length on that famous 12th of September, 1759, and assoon as the northern bank disappeared in the gloom of evening, theEnglish camp was astir with quiet and concealed movements. Only to afew was the plan of campaign known, for in the rapidity and secrecy ofthe movement lay the only chance of success--for against the English theodds were desperate. Wolfe, however, was so far recovered from hissickness that he was able to command in person, and the inspiration thatthis knowledge gave to the men was equivalent to the addition of an armycorps.

  An officer who took part in the events of that night has left it onrecord that despite the reverse at the Montmorency six weeks before,"the men were uncommonly eager and difficult to restrain, and yet," headded, speaking to a comrade a few hours before the event, "if wesucceed in scaling and capturing that rock-crowned citadel, I shallthink little in future of Hannibal leading his army over the Alps."

  At nine o'clock thirty boats collected from the warships and transports,rendezvoused in a line in front of Admiral Holmes' flagship. Then thelast "general order" issued by Wolfe was read to the troops by thegenerals in command. It contained these striking words--

  "Now is the time to strike a stroke which will determine the fate ofCanada."

  Then fifteen hundred men, the forlorn hope of the expedition, selectedchiefly from the Highlanders, the Anstruthers and the Light Infantry,were crowded into the boats, and now nothing remained but the finalissue, as the troops calmly waited for the second ebb tide, which was tocarry them down-stream.

  At one o'clock the tide ebbed, and the order was given to cast off. Nota soldier or a sailor remained behind who was not cursing his ill-luckthat he had not been chosen to go ahead in the boats. The order hadbeen given for silence, and nothing could be heard but the gurgling ofthe water as it washed the sides of the boats; but the excitement,though suppressed, must have been intense as the men grasped theirmuskets and lay close together, looking at the stars above or thoserugged heights, which ever and anon loomed darkly from the northernshore.

  Jamie, with his two companions, was in the first boat eagerly scanningthat dark outline and noting every headland, watching for that littleindentation just between St. Nichol and Le
Foulton, where he and Jackhad so often landed their little fishing canoe during their enforcedstay in Quebec.

  Suddenly a low voice broke upon their ears from the stern sheets of thenext boat, which was only a dozen feet away. It was the voice of Wolfereciting to his officers and to a young midshipman, named Robinson, whohas left the incident on record. He was quoting from memory the stanzasfrom "Gray's Elegy"--

  "The paths of glory lead but to the grave."

  "Gentlemen," Jamie heard him say, "I would rather have written thoselines than take Quebec to-morrow." And every English schoolboy nowknows how strangely prophetic and appropriate were those lines.

  They were now rapidly approaching the little cove, and Jamie signalledto the steersman of his boat to edge in a little closer to the northernshore, which now towered above them like a great barrier. As he did sothe voice of a sentry came through the gloom from the heights above--

  "_Qui vive?_"

  "_La France!_" replied a captain of the Highlanders from Jamie's boat.

  "_A quel regiment?_" came back from the heights.

  "_De la Reine!_" answered the Highlander.

  The sentry appeared satisfied, as the Queen's regiment formed part ofBougainville's command, which had been sent further up the bank in orderto watch Wolfe's movements.

  Shortly afterwards they were challenged again, but a few more adroitanswers saved the situation.

  "This is the spot," whispered Jamie, and the boat was run upon the bankin the little sandy cove beneath the cliffs, and a hundred men werequickly clustered upon the little beach. Wolfe was amongst the first toland, and as he looked up at the rugged heights he shook his head andcoolly remarked--

  "You can try it, but I don't think you'll get up."

  The next moment Jamie and his companions, closely followed by twentyvolunteers, were climbing the precipitous front, dragging themselves upby the roots and branches of the shrubs and trees which overhung thesteep ascent. For another moment those below waited with breathlesssuspense. Then quick, ringing shots were heard, as those few determinedmen overpowered the small French guard at the top. This was followed bya thin British cheer, and immediately the Highlanders below, with theLight Infantry and the others, clambered up the apparently impossibleheights and gained the plains above.

  At dawn fifteen hundred men stood upon the Plains of Abraham, and thenthe ships, which had dropped down the river behind the boats, landed therest of the army. When the sun rose on the 13th of September, the watchon the citadel beheld with amazement the red coats of the British armyforming up into lines--and preparing for battle.

  Swift couriers had carried the tidings across the St. Charles toMontcalm, and the roll of drums was heard amid his camp, and soon theFrench division were pouring across the bridge of boats. At nineo'clock, the armies were facing each other on the Plains above the city.Then the rattle of musketry began as the French sharpshooters lined thebushes and entrenchments previously prepared to the north-west of thecity.

  On came the columns of Montcalm, firing and shouting in an inspiritingmanner, led by their renowned leader in person.

  How different those thin red lines of Highlanders, Grenadiers and hardycolonial levies. An ominous silence hung like a cloud over the Englishranks. It was the silence that presages the storm--the calm, stillwaters of a dam about to burst its bounds and spread havoc and death.

  As the French fire became more effectual, the gaps in the English ranksbecame frequent, but they were filled in silence as the rear men steppedto the front. In those ranks scarce a word was spoken, and as yet not ashot had been fired. Officers of Montcalm have since said that thisominous silence cast a chill over the French columns that half decidedthe issues of the day.

  Not till the French were within forty yards was the word given to fire,then simultaneously the long line of muskets were brought to the level,and from end to end of the English ranks a crashing blaze of leaden hailwas poured upon the enemy. The columns of Montcalm reeled and staggeredbefore this dreadful impact. A second volley was fired, and then,before the smoke had rolled away, or the enemy had had an opportunity toreform his shattered ranks, a deafening cheer rang from end to end ofthe Plains. The flood of British fury was at length undammed, andtrampling the dead and dying they swept the shattered columns beforethem in one mad, wild stampede. The Highlanders, wielding theirterrible broadswords, chased the fugitives right up to the gates of thecity and across the St. Charles River.

  The defeat was crushing and absolute, and in that moment of victory thedestiny of Canada was settled, but the cheers of the victors weresilenced as the sad news passed from rank to rank that Wolfe had fallen.In the heat of the fight, leading on the Grenadiers, his wrist had beenshattered by a ball. He quickly bound it in a handkerchief, andcontinued the fight. A second ball pierced his side, but he stayed not.Then a bullet entered his breast, and he reeled and fell.

  Four soldiers raised him up, and carrying him to the rear laid himgently upon the grass. He appeared to be unconscious, but when a soldiernear him exclaimed--

  "See how they run!"

  "Who run?" asked the dying soldier, opening his eyes.

  "The enemy, sir! They give way everywhere!" was the reply.

  "Then tell Colonel Burton to march Webb's regiment down to Charles Riverto cut off their retreat from the bridge. Now, God be praised! I willdie in peace," were the last words of General Wolfe. That day Englandgained an Empire, but lost a hero.

  The three scouts had finished their task when they led the forlorn hopeup the precipice and on to the Plains, but they were not to be denied ashare in the fight, for they had received permission to join the ranksof the centre column, which was under the personal command of Wolfe, andbore the brunt of the fight on that never-to-be-forgotten morning. Theywere in the forefront of that wild rush to the bridge, where the fightwas thickest, and where many hundreds were hurled into the St. CharlesRiver, and where Montcalm's retreat was effectually blocked and victorymade secure.

  The battle was over now, for though one of the most glorious, it was oneof the briefest in history, and though they had lost each other in thepursuit, the three comrades were glad to rejoin the ranks at theroll-call on the Plains and find each other alive and well, except forminor wounds, though the joy of victory was damped and a chill went toevery heart when the word was passed down the ranks that theirillustrious leader had fallen.

  Next morning General Townshend passed to the head of every regiment insuccession, and thanked the troops for their brilliant services, andsoon afterwards one of his aide-de-camps approached the scouts andrequested their immediate presence in the General's tent. They followedhim, wondering that he had not forgotten them altogether in theexcitement of so great a victory. When they stood in his presence theysaluted and waited for him to speak.

  "Jamie Stuart and Jack Elliot!" said General Townshend, and instantlyseveral other officers, who had been busily engaged writing dispatchesfor England, rose and stood at attention. "In the name of His MostGracious Majesty, King George the Second, I thank you for the eminentservices you have rendered to your country. I have appointed you bothfrom this day to be ensigns in the Royal Americans. Here are yourcommissions. Right nobly have you won them. May you be spared long toserve your country! God save the King!"

  The youths were overwhelmed with this generous tribute from so great asoldier. They could find no words to express their gratitude for thissignal honour conferred upon them. A commission in His Majesty'svictorious army seemed too great a reward for their poor services, soeach raised his hand to the salute again and repeated the General'swords--

  "God save the King!"

  The General then turned to the hunter, who had been an interested andsympathetic witness of this stirring scene, but as he spake his voicesoftened, for he had noticed that down the bronzed cheek of the old manthere trickled a tear.

  "Frontiersman, what is your name?" he asked.

  There was a pause, and for a few seconds the hunter's eyes
were turnedto Jamie, and a strange far-away look came into his face. Then in ahalf-broken voice he answered--

  "John Stuart of Burnside! An exile!"

  "Father!" burst from Jamie's lips, and the next instant the palefacehunter and his son were hugging each other with joy.

  The next moment General Townshend advanced to the hunter, and pinningthe King's medal upon his breast, he said--

  "He is no longer an exile who wears this honoured decoration. JohnStuart, I thank you for the work you have already done, but there arestill further services that I wish to ask of you. I understand thatyour knowledge of the river and the forest from this point to MontRoyale is unsurpassed by that of any person in the camp. Your knowledgewill shortly be invaluable to us. I appoint you as Frontiersman andChief Guide to the British Army in the Canadas, and, furthermore, Idesire to say that His Majesty shall be reminded after the war of theimportant services which I trust you will then have rendered to yourcountry."

  "General," said the hunter, "I am an exile from my native land, but Ihave never committed a crime, and my conscience is clear. England hastreated me unkindly, but I love my country, and without any thought ofreward I freely offer you my services. If necessary, I will gladly diefor my country."

  "Thank you, Frontiersman!" said the General, touched by these words. "Agrateful country will not forget your devotion to her interests in thehour of her need. May every son of Britain likewise forget his privatewrongs in England's hour of danger."

  Four days later, on that memorable 17th of September, 1759, the whiteflag was hung out from the citadel at Quebec, and on the next day theGibraltar of North America passed for ever from its old masters into thehands of Britain.

  "Look, Jack! The French ensign is coming down," said Jamie, and theyboth looked towards the citadel, and a moment afterwards, amid the clashof martial music, the salute of the batteries, and the wild cheering ofthe soldiers, the English flag waved proudly over the fort and theriver.

  "There, Jamie, our dream has come true, it's the old flag at last, and,thank God, we have helped to plant it there."

  After the fall of Quebec, the paleface hunter and the two youthsaccompanied the army in its victorious march upon Mont Royale, and whenthe war was over they returned to England. Jack survived his twobrothers, and in time became the Squire of Burnside, and I find that toJohn Stuart, Esquire, of Burnside, Yorkshire, a grant of Crown land wasmade for his services to his country, and that the old farmhouse, whichstill stands, above the wood and the trout-stream, was built by him andhis son Jamie in 1775. And there they lived happily for many years, andthere Jamie's descendants live to this day, for only two years ago,while visiting his ancestral home and poring over ancient deeds and theold family Bible, with its records and dates, the author discovered thisforgotten story of adventure and peril.