The Road to Paris: A Story of Adventure

by Robert Neilson Stephens

  CHAPTER VII.

  THE MARCH THROUGH MAINE.

  It was on Monday morning, September 11th, that Dick and Tom marched withtheir fellow riflemen from Prospect Hill, bound first for Newburyport,thence by sea for the mouth of the Kennebec River, and thence throughthe Maine wilderness into Canada and to Quebec.

  The little army of 1,100 men, consisting of the two Pennsylvania riflecompanies,--one from Cumberland County and one from LancasterCounty,--Captain Morgan's company of Virginia riflemen, and twodivisions of New England infantry, set forth in gay spirits. Itscommander, Col. Benedict Arnold, of Connecticut, had recently arrived inCambridge from his achievement with Ethan Allen at Ticonderoga, hisdeeds on Lake Champlain, and his capture of St. John's. He was a short,stout, ruddy, handsome man, with a face complacent but resolute. Hissoldiers admired his bravery, and the most ungovernable of them yieldedto his great persuasiveness.

  Dick found himself more immediately under the command of Capt. DanielMorgan, who led the division composed of all three rifle companies; alarge, strong man, whose usually severe mien softened on occasion into asingularly kindly one; a rigid disciplinarian, impetuous yet sagacious,easily aroused but soon calmed. Dick's own captain, William Hendricks,was tall and noble-looking, gentle and heroic in face and heart. The twolieutenants, John M'Cleland and Michael Simpson, were both oldacquaintances of Dick's, the former being notable for his openness ofcharacter, the latter for his gaiety and his skill as a singer. SergeantGrier was a faithful, reliable man, whose stout and intrepid wifeaccompanied him on the campaign and without difficulty kept the respectof the soldiers. The Lancaster company's captain, Matthew Smith, wassoldierly and good-looking, but unlettered and turbulent. Two of hisbest men were a pair of adventurous youths no older thanDick,--Archibald Steele and John Joseph Henry.

  Of the two New England divisions, one was under Lieutenant-ColonelChristopher Greene, of Rhode Island, the other under Lieutenant-ColonelEnos, of Connecticut. But Dick, on the march, came little in contactwith the Yankee troops.

  Sleeping by the way on the first night of the expedition, the armyreached the little town of Newburyport on Tuesday, and camped hereseveral days, completing its equipment. It was joined here by severalvolunteers, including two young men named Aaron Burr and Matthew Ogden,and Colonel Arnold attached these two to his staff. On Monday afternoon,September 18th, the army embarked on ten transports, which set sail inthe evening, and which, under a fair, strong breeze, reached the mouthof the Kennebec at dawn. Continuing on the transports a short distanceup this river, to Gardiner, the army left them at Colonel Colborn'sship-yard, and proceeded in two hundred bateaux to Fort Western,--onwhose site the city of Augusta was later built,--reaching that place onSaturday, September 23d, having camped by the river during the nights.

  Here Colonel Arnold sent forward a pioneer party to explore the riverand to blaze a way through the wilderness at each place where boatscould not navigate and where the men would have to go by land. Dickopenly envied the lucky fellows selected for this duty,--Steele, Henry,four more of Smith's men, and three of Morgan's. As, from the camp on apine-clad slope, he watched them set out, he would have given much for aplace in one of their two light birch-bark canoes, each of which waspartly laden with pork, meal, and biscuit.

  "Hoot toot, lad!" said MacAlister, divining the boy's feelings. "It'swork enough ye're like to have, whether ye gang before or behint, ereye set eyes on the inside of Quebec town!"

  It was Dick's lot not to go behind. The rifle companies constituted thevan of the army, and set out from Fort Western in their bateaux a day inadvance of the second division, Greene's, which in turn by a daypreceded Eno's division, the third and last. This order was to bemaintained until the army should have gone some way up the Kennebec,marched to that stream's branch, the Dead River, proceeded thereon, andmade thence to the Chaudiere, where all should unite for the advance onQuebec. Colonel Arnold waited at Fort Western till the last division wasoff, then took a canoe, with Indians at the paddles, passed the thirdand second divisions, and overtook the advance at Norridgewock Falls, inthe country of the moose deer.

  Dick now found himself in a wilderness more solitary and picturesquethan his own Pennsylvania forests. The last cabin of white settlers hadbeen left behind. Civilized habitation would not again be seen until thearmy should reach the French settlements in Canada. The river, pursuinga turbulent way among rocks and over cataracts, was set amidst solitudesof fir-trees, hemlocks, birch, and other species, and these crowned theeminences that rose now gently, and now abruptly, on every hand. Withinsound of the eternal tumult of Norridgewock Falls, were the ruins of adeserted Indian village, and as Dick lay at night under his blanket onhis bed of evergreen branches, listening to the noise of the waterfall,and of MacAlister's snoring, he would look through his tent opening andimagine the ghosts of bygone red men, or that of the good French priest,Father Ralle, who had come to this village in 1698, and been killed whena party from Massachusetts suddenly attacked the place in 1724.

  It was the task of Dick and his fellow riflemen to open the way, removeimpediments from the streams, learn the fords, explore the portages orcarrying-places where, the waters not being navigable, the boats had tobe carried over land, and free these last of obstructions. For this worktheir attire was more suitable than was such garb as Dick had discardedon joining them; it consisted of hunting-cap, flannel shirt, cloth orbuckskin breeches, buckskin leggings, moccasins, and outsidehunting-shirt of brown linsey-woolsey, with a belt in which a knife anda tomahawk were carried. Each of Morgan's men wore on his cap afront-piece inscribed with the words, "Liberty or Death." This everpresent reminder to the men, of the cause for which they toiled andsuffered, came not amiss. It was not from the rifle companies that thedesertions occurred, which united with swamp-fever and fatigue toreduce the army to fewer than a thousand able men before October 13th.

  Dick soon realized the truth of old Tom's prediction concerning hardwork. At the times when some of the men marched along the river banks,while some forced the bad and heavy bateaux, with their loads ofprovisions and other supplies, up the rapid stream, the lot of theformer, struggling through thickets and swamps and over rocks, was noworse than the lot of the latter, wading and pushing against thecurrent, which oftentimes upset or swamped their boats, and damagedprovisions, arms, and ammunition. More than once a whole day was spentin getting around some single cataract, the men unloading the cargoes,carrying them--and sometimes the boats also--on their shoulders, thenrelaunching and reloading for another tug against the swift stream.Before the Great Portage, from the Kennebec to the Dead River, had beentraversed, Dick was inured to the life of an amphibious being, as wellas to that of some swamp-infesting animal or of some inhabitant of theunderbrush. His breeches and leggings were torn almost from his legs bythickets, which spared not the skin under them, and below the hips hewas thoroughly water-soaked. But he still slept and ate well, therebeing at this time plenty of trout and salmon in the ponds and streams,with which to eke out the diet of pork, meal-cakes, and biscuit. As yetthe weather, though cold at night, caused no suffering to a youth ofDick's hardiness, or to a veteran as well seasoned as MacAlister.

  "I prophesy that will be the langest fifteen mile ye'll often gangover," said Old Tom, when he and Dick came to a halt at last on the bankof the Dead River, having put behind them the Great Portage and itsthree intervening lakelets, after days of dragging and pushing of boatsover a rough ridge, and through ponds and bogs. "I gather from offeecialsources," continued the Fiddler, "that we're like to reach the ChaudiereRiver in eight or ten days, though I hae my doots, seeing it's mony amile up this river we'll be ganging, and then over God knows what kindof country after that. Weel, weel, lad, it's Quebec or nothing now, ifye hauld out, for devil a bit will ony mon of us gang willingly backover the road we've come by!"

  So jubilant were the men at having overcome the difficulties of thegreat carrying-place, that they whistled and jested as they launchedtheir boats on the sluggish waters of the
Dead River. They acted as ifthe end of their journey were in sight. Colonel Arnold had already sentan Indian messenger to General Schuyler, whose army from the province ofNew York had in August started under Montgomery from Ticonderoga toenter Canada below Montreal and eventually unite with Arnold's forcebefore Quebec. The colonel thought to receive an answer to this letteron arriving at the Chaudiere.

  "It's a blithe lot of men, true for ye, wi' their whistling andcapering," said old Tom, in an undertone, as he and Dick stoodrecovering their breath after much pulling and shoving of boats. "Alllooks weel and bonny the day, but ye maun put nae trust in appearances.Do ye moind, ayont Curritunk, afore we left the Kennebec, how ye steppitsae merrily on the green moss that seemed to cover level ground for saelang a stretch, and how ye found 'twas rotten bog beneath the surface,and full of them snags that tripped ye up and cut your feet in thedevil's ain way? Mony's the mon like that,--and woman, too!"

  Up the Dead River for eighty-three miles the army proceeded, theriflemen still leading. Seventeen times they had to unload their boatsand carry the loads past places that were not navigable. On this part ofthe journey the men were assailed by rains and cold weather. LieutenantM'Cleland, more fragile in body than in spirit, was one of many whoseconstitutions began to yield to these assaults. With a cold in thelungs, he toiled on, performing his duties and refusing aid, until hisincreasing weakness compelled him to relinquish the former and acceptthe latter, on his comrades' insistence and his captain's orders. Whenthe chosen route departed from the Dead River, to cross a mountain,M'Cleland was placed on a litter and so carried forward.

  "If I can only hold out till we enter Quebec!" he said from his litter,one bleak, drizzling day, while Captain Hendricks, Dick, MacAlister, andothers bore him up the wooded mountain-side,--for the captain took histurn at the litter with the others.

  Captain Hendricks cheerily said there could be no doubt of that, andLieutenant Simpson, who happened to be walking immediately behind thelitter, predicted that the sufferer would begin to mend as soon as thetroops should reach the Chaudiere, and reminded him, for the tenth time,that a boat was being carried across the mountain purposely to take himdown that river while his comrades should march along the banks.

  The lieutenant brightened up at this reassurance that he was not to beleft behind,--as more than one ailing man had necessarily been,--and,turning his eyes to Dick, said:

  "Do you remember the morning, Dick, when I galloped up to your housewith the news of the beginning of this business? How long ago thatseems, and how far away!" His voice had sunk, and he was silent andthoughtful for a moment. Then he resumed, with as much cheerfulness ashis weakened state would allow him to show, "We didn't imagineourselves, that morning, marching into Quebec together, as we shall bebefore many a day!"

  Dick's answer was prevented by a fit of coughing on M'Cleland's part,after which the sufferer closed his eyes and went into a feverish doze.Old Tom glanced down at him, and for a moment looked grimmer thanusually.

  Before starting to cross this mountain, which was one of the greatsnow-covered chain running northeastwardly, Colonel Arnold and the firstdivision had camped at the base to rest. The tents had been flooded byheavy rains and by sudden torrents from the mountains. The inundationhad upset several boats, destroyed provisions, and dampened the spiritsas well as the bodies of the men. Rations were shortened, and thedejecting news went round that there remained a journey of twelve orfifteen days in a wilderness devoid of supplies. After consulting withthe officers on the ground, Arnold sent orders back to Colonel Greeneand Colonel Enos to bring forward as many men as they could furnish withfifteen days' provisions, and to send the rest of their forces back toNorridgewock. These orders despatched, Arnold and the riflemen startedon their march across the mountain.

  Drenched with rain at the outset, they were soon chilled by wintrywinds, and presently impeded by snow and ice. But at last the crest ofthe mountain no longer crossed the bleak sky ahead. Valleys, set withicy streams and frozen lakes, came into view, their sombreness notlessened by the color of their dark evergreens. The down-hill andcross-country march of the scantily fed men brought them at last to LakeMegantic, the source of the Chaudiere. Here they met a courier whomColonel Arnold had sent ahead to the valley of the Chaudiere to soundthe French _habitans_, whose humble farms would be the first humanabodes reached in Canada. This emissary said that the peasants wouldgive the American army a hospitable reception. Colonel Arnold thereuponchose to precede the army down the Chaudiere, with a foraging party,that he might obtain and send back supplies and also have provisionscollected for the army's use on its arrival at the habitations. Hetherefore caused the little remaining food to be given out equally tothe companies, ordered them to follow as best they could to theChaudiere settlements, and set out with a birch canoe and five bateaux.In the colonel's party was Archibald Steele, with whose pioneer forcethe riflemen had reunited at the Dead River, and whom Dick, compelled asbefore to remain behind with the main advance, again had reason to envy.

  "Whist, lad!" quoth old Tom. "The post of honor, ye'll find, is backwhere the starving will be. There'll be low spirits henceforth, I'mthinking, and waurk for the fiddle, hearting up the men when they'veleetle dourness left to fa' back on and it's devil a bit of differencewhether they live or die. Lord, Lord! It's a gang of living ghaists weare, Dickie. Wi' the clothes of us torn to flinders by the stanes andbriars, and wi' nowt left to our shoes but the tops, we'd do fine toscare away the crows from the corn fields in a ceevilized country. Sure,the wind is like to pull the tatters frae our backs, and make us ashocking sight to the ladies when we march in triumph into Quebec!"

  "If we ever get to Quebec," said a soldier, dismally, who had overheardTom's last words.

  "We'll get to Quebec!" said Dick, positively; and he involuntarily putback his hand and felt his queue.

  Dick now went to speak to his friend M'Cleland, who had been placed in aboat, which was to be navigated across the lake and down the Chaudiereby Sergeant Grier and several others.

  "Mind you land him safe!" called out the sergeant's buxom wife, as theboat moved off; and the sergeant replied he would do his best.

  "I'm afraid the poor lieutenant finds it a long way to Quebec," saidMrs. Grier, taking place in the line of riflemen as it started for theChaudiere by land.

  "It's a lang way for some more of us," replied Tom MacAlister, whomarched behind her. "There's that puir blind Shafer, the drummer in theLancaster company. Look at him now, yonder. It's ten to one he can't seea dozen foot ahead of his nose, yet he's always in his place, next manto one ahint Captain Smith,--except when he fa's into a bog, throughlack of eyesight. It must be the sense of hearing keeps him sae straightafter the heels of young Henry afore him. Sure, if every man was likehim, Captain Morgan would never have to look black and curse insidebecause of stragglers from the camp."

  "It's a sin," said Mrs. Grier, "the tricks the men play on him, stealinghis cakes away from under his very eyes. Och! there he goes now,tumbling off the log into the gully, drum and all! You're right,MacAlister,--the way to Quebec is a long one to Shafer, the drummer."

  "Yet I'd wager a pound or two, if I had it," said Tom, "the puir, blind,naked, hungry body will be beating his drum at Quebec, when mony a stoutrascal that laughs at him now will be sleeping here in these gullies wi'the bitter wind for bed-covering."

  The troops came presently to a pond, which would require so wide adetour to skirt, that the far shorter way was to cross it. Trying theice that covered it, the men found that too thin to bear their weight.With dogged resignation, they began to break the ice with their guns,and waded in. Mrs. Grier raised her skirts above her waist and followedthe man ahead, through the chilling water, to the opposite shore. Dickand Tom waded immediately after her. No one offered either smile orcomment. On the tired troops marched, in Indian file, hungry, shivering,aching, each man feeling that the next step might be his last.

  When they reached the Chaudiere, many of the riflemen did not wait forthe o
rder to halt, but exhaustedly sank to the frosty ground in line.Tom, always respecting discipline, trudged on till the word came,followed through force of example by Dick; and then these two alsodropped in their places.

  "Chaudiere," said MacAlister, glancing down that stream. "That meanscaldron, and frae the look of things down yonder I won't gainsay thefitness of the name. It's unco' wild navigation we're like to have, downthat there boiling torrent, I'm thinking!"

  And so it proved, when an attempt was made to launch boats. Every onethat was put into the river was stove in by rocks, on being hurledforward by the rapids. But Captain Morgan persisted, until he had lostall of his boats. The ammunition, arms, and other equipments werethereupon taken up by the men, who proceeded along the banks of theturbulent stream.

  It happened that Dick and Tom were at the front of the division, whenthey turned the corner of a projecting rock, and came unexpectedly on agroup that stood around a fire, beside which a man was lying. Itrequired but a glance to inform Dick that this group consisted ofSergeant Grier's party and that the man on the ground was LieutenantM'Cleland. The sight of a damaged boat, and of a rock near the verge ofa cataract, told the story,--that the boat had lodged on the rock, andthat the men had managed to bring the feeble lieutenant ashore in timeto save him from speedy death. In a moment Dick was kneeling at hisside, whither he was soon followed by Captain Hendricks and LieutenantSimpson.

  "It was a foolish thing to let you go by the river," said Hendricks tothe prostrate man, whose breath came in quick, feeble movements, andwhose weather-browned features had an ashy pallor.

  "We'll carry you on as we did over the mountain,--all the way toQuebec," said Dick, pressing M'Cleland's hand.

  But the lieutenant merely smiled faintly, took on a look of drowsyresignation, essayed to shake his head, and whispered the word,"Farewell!" Dick had to yield the hand he held, and his place by hisfriend's side, that his captain and certain of his comrades might claspthe hand once ere it should be cold. Even as Dick was thinking of thesunny April morning when his friend had ridden up, all life andanimation, with the news of Lexington, the soldier sighed his lastfarewell.

  When the troops took up their march and left the dead man there, as theyhad left many another in those bleak wilds, Dick had a moment ofheart-sickness, when all seemed dark before him, and when he wished thathe and M'Cleland might be back in their Pennsylvania valley, and thatthere had never been a war.

  "Heart up, lad!" came over his shoulder, softly, the voice of old Tom."It's mony a friend ye'll leave cauld by the wayside ere ye come to liethere cauld yoursel'. Ye'll learn to keep looking forward, as ye gangover the hills and far away. Sae hauld up your head, and swallow yourAdam's apple, and fasten your mind's eye on Quebec!"

  And Dick braced himself and did so.

  By the 29th of October the last mouthful of meat was eaten and the lastbiscuit gone. A little flour remained, and this was divided equally,each man receiving five pounds. This they boiled in kettles of water,without salt, into what they called a bleary, subsequently eating it outof the wooden bowls around each one of which several half-numb fellowssat or lay at meals. At such times, those who were not reduced to astate of wretched apathy or speechless despair, discussed theprobabilities of their ever receiving food from Colonel Arnold's advanceparty, or of their perishing in the chill wilderness. Many were thegrowlers and foreboders of evil.

  "Bedad," said Tom MacAlister, after two or three of these had beenhaving their say, "ye put me in mind of the complaining children ofIsrael, though it's far waur than them ye be, for they had forty yearsin the wilderness afore ivver they set sight on the Promised Land."

  "Ay," replied one of the malcontents, "but the Lord sent them manna fromheaven, whereas he sends us only rain and snow and wind. And who can sayfor certain when we shall catch sight of our Moses again, eh, boys?"

  Suspicions like this, real or pretended, that their leader had desertedor even betrayed them, were plentiful among these troops, as they were,indeed, throughout the American armies during most of the war forindependence. It was by making men forget these thoughts, or ashamed ofthem, that the example of uncomplaining endurance set by Dick, and thesoldierly conduct and musical performances of old Tom, were of great useto the officers in holding the troops to their weary task. At night animmense fire was made, and, while the men lay around it to warm theirbodies, MacAlister fiddled and Lieutenant Simpson sang for them. Thelieutenant had a rich, manly voice, and as many songs at command as Tomhad tunes,--songs of war, comic songs, songs of love,--and his voice andthat of Tom's fiddle, rising above the crackling of the fire, madesounds unwonted in that wintry wilderness accustomed only to the murmurof waters and the howling of winds.

  The last pinch of flour found its way into the pot and thence into somehalf famished stomach. The men's lives now depended entirely on thearrival of supplies from Colonel Arnold's foraging party beforestarvation could complete its work. After going a day unfed, MacAlisterand Dick boiled their leather cartouch-boxes in the pot, drank thebroth, and afterward chewed up the leather. The next day they discussedthe advisability of following the example of some of the other riflemen,who had boiled their moccasins and leggings. Wandering through the camp,while off duty, they came to a startled halt, at sight of a number ofmen actually eating some roasted meat. Partaking speedily of this feast,on invitation, Dick, not recognizing the flavor of the flesh, asked whatit was.

  "Whist, lad," said old Tom, tearing the meat from a bone with his teeth,"be content with what Providence sends, and discipline your curiosity.Ye'll no relish your supper the better for speering."

  But the men's talk soon disclosed that the meat was of CaptainDearborn's Newfoundland dog, which had been an army pet. Dick ate nomore that evening, but the next day, drawn irresistibly to the samemess, he accepted a ladleful of greenish broth, which, the men told him,had been made of the dog's bones, these having been pounded up for thepurpose.

  "He's all gone now, poor fellow," said one of the men; "even the insidesof him, and Lord knows when we'll eat next!"

  On the march, the troops came to a place where the Chaudiere swept asmooth beach, through which protruded parts of sand-roots. At sight ofthese, many of the men broke madly from the file, dug out the roots withtheir fingers, and ravenously ate them on the spot.

  Captain Morgan, sharing without exemption the sufferings of the men, wasno less severe against insubordination during this starving time than hehad formerly been. His rigid yet fair rule, and the kindly and tactfulauthority of Hendricks, kept the men moving along towards the distantgoal, however listlessly and hopelessly some of them went. As for theLancaster company, if Captain Smith was unduly boisterous, his men hadbefore them such examples of unquenchable spirit as young Henry, and ofunwearying patience as Shafer, the half blind drummer. But it was, onthe whole, a despairing band of haggard and half naked men that movedat crawling pace along the rocky Chaudiere.

  "The farther we march, the farther away seems the Promised Land,"muttered the man whom old Tom had once likened to the murmuring childrenof Israel.

  MacAlister, who had begun to limp, for the once made no answer, andDick, toiling heavily along behind him, had to clench his teeth andthink of the girl in Quebec, to keep from succumbing to the generaldespair.

  Suddenly, from the tree-hidden distance in front, came a sound that madeevery man's head go up in eager, half-incredulous joy. It was the lowingof cattle.

  The troops pushed rapidly forward, every ear and eye alert. When a clearspace was reached, and a few men of Colonel Arnold's party, with someCanadians and Indians, were seen coming up the river with a herd ofcattle, several of the soldiers shrieked wildly, others laughed likelunatics, many wept like women, and some rushed forward and threw theirarms around the great brown necks of the cattle. Dick smiled and cheeredand waved his hat, and old Tom's face warmed for a moment into agratified grin. In after years both often used to say that thejoyfullest sight of their lives was that of these cattle coming up theriver on that win
try day in the wilderness.

  While they ate, around their camp-fire, they heard how Arnold's partyhad fared, how three of its boats had been dashed to pieces on the waydown the Chaudiere, the cargoes lost, the crews put in great peril oftheir lives, one boat-load of men nearly thrown over a cataract; how theparty was cordially received at Sertigan, the nearest French settlement,whose first house Arnold had reached on the night of October 30th, andhow he had started provisions back towards the army early the nextmorning.

  It was two o'clock on Saturday afternoon, November 4th, when theriflemen, having swiftly waded mid-deep through a wide stream thatflowed from the east, came in sight of the first house they beheld inCanada, a small, squat, wooden building, which, with its barn and littleouthouses, had a look of snugness and comfort all the greater for thebleak surroundings. The men rushed forward to it joyfully, and foundthat Colonel Arnold had laid in a great quantity of food.

  Stared at curiously by the wool-clad Canadian family of seven persons,the famished troops ate voraciously, cramming their throats with boiledbeef, hot bread, and boiled or roasted potatoes. Warned by MacAlister,Dick restrained his appetite and fed but moderately. Within a few hourshe realized the value of old Tom's admonition, for many of the mensickened from the sudden repletion and some died of it. The army now hadnot only supplies but also a reinforcement, which consisted of theAbenaqui chief, Natanis, with his brother, Sebatis, and several of histribe, all these Indians having distantly accompanied the troops,unseen, from the Dead River. They had feared that, in the wilderness,the army might receive them as enemies. These allies were welcomed ascompensating slightly for the defection of the entire third division,which, through the misunderstanding or disobedience of Enos, had goneback in its entirety, with the medicine-chest and a large stock ofprovisions, when Arnold had ordered its incapacitated men returned toNorridgewock.

  The army made a halt at the French settlements, while Colonel Arnolddistributed among the Canadians a printed manifesto furnished him byGeneral Washington, of which the purpose was to enlist Canadians to thecause of the revolted colonies. On the 7th of November the twodivisions, now together and numbering only six hundred men, were fourleagues from the St. Lawrence. Hope and expectation had reawakened.Around the camp-fire that night there were conjectures as to how andwhen the attack on Quebec would be made; as to how it was at presentgarrisoned and fortified; as to what the army from New York, underSchuyler and Montgomery, must have done by this time in the vicinity ofMontreal; as to when Colonel Arnold should receive replies to themessages he had sent by Indians to those commanders; as to when the twoarmies would unite; as to which side would be taken by the differentelements of Canada's population,--the old French aristocracy, theCatholic priesthood, the French peasants, the few British and Irishimmigrants who had come in since the English had taken the country fromthe French. Thus far, the humble _habitans_, at least, had given theAmericans kindly welcome, calling them _nos pauvres freres_ and refusingpayment for lodging and food in their little farmhouses. Again and againwas told the story of Wolfe's victory in '59, and it was questionedwhether the American commanders would ascend to the Heights of Abrahamto attack, as he had done, or would assail the city on some other side.

  Arnold's boldly outlined, resolute countenance, with the fire in theeyes, and the look of inward planning, had the prophetic aspect ofvictory, and throughout the little army confidence grew apace.Lieutenant Simpson's voice and Tom MacAlister's fiddle now sounded outblithely. Even the cold was less heeded. A deeply thrilling expectancyglowed in Dick, making him view things about him as in a kind of dream.

  "Sure, the Promised Land seems to be coming into sight, after all," saidold Tom, to the grumbler who marched ahead of him. The army had brokencamp and was marching towards the St. Lawrence.

  "Who said it wasn't?" queried the other; but he added, a moment later,"Though we haven't set foot on it yet, and as for what's in sight, all Ican see ahead is woods, with a parcel of ragged walking corpses trailingthrough."

  They were, indeed, a procession of sorry-looking creatures. Unkempt,ill-shaven, limping from footsoreness, bending forward from the habitinduced by fatigue, sunken of cheek, haggard of eye and feature, halfnaked, many of them barefoot, bearing their rifles and baggage as heavyburdens, they were an army more fitted to appall by their ghastly aspectthan by military formidableness. So they plodded through the forest.

  On Thursday, November 9th, blinking their eyes at the sudden light asthey emerged from the shades, Dick and MacAlister stepped out in filefrom the woods, presently came to a halt, drawn up in line with thelittle army, and stood staring in a kind of stupid wonder at the scenebefore them,--first a clear space sloping gradually, next a wide riverflowing tranquilly, a few vessels moored in the river, then some housesand walls massed irregularly at the base of high cliffs, and finally, atthe top of these cliffs, a huddle of fortifications, towers, spires, androofs, and, over all else, the flag of England.

  "'Tis Quebec, lad!" said old Tom, in a singularly dry tone, little abovea whisper; "the Promised Land!"

  Dick made no answer, but stood gazing with moistened eyes, unable tospeak for the emotion that stirred within him.