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WITH WASHINGTON IN THE WEST.

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AT THE FALL OF MONTREAL.

ON THE TRAIL OF PONTIAC.

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AT THE FALL OF MONTREAL

As the weapon rang out the red man leaped upward and fell in a heap.—Page [53].

Colonial Series

AT THE FALL OF MONTREAL

OR

A SOLDIER BOY’S FINAL VICTORY

BY

EDWARD STRATEMEYER

Author of “With Washington in the West,” “Lost on the

Orinoco,” “American Boys’ Life of William McKinley,”

“On to Pekin,” “Old Glory Series,” “Ship

and Shore Series,” etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY A. B. SHUTE

BOSTON

LEE AND SHEPARD

1904

Published August, 1903

Copyright, 1903, by Lee and Shepard

Entered at Stationers’ Hall, London

All rights reserved

At the Fall of Montreal

CONTENTS

PREFACE

“At the Fall of Montreal” is a compete story in itself, but forms the third volume of a line known by the general title of “Colonial Series.”

The first volume of this series, entitled “With Washington in the West,” related the fortunes of David Morris, the son of a pioneer who settled at Wills’ Creek, now known as Cumberland, Va. David became well acquainted with Washington while the latter was a surveyor, and later on served under the young commander during the fateful Braddock expedition against Fort Duquesne.

The defeat of General Braddock left the English frontier at the mercy of the French and Indians, and in the second volume of the series, entitled “Marching on Niagara,” were given the particulars of General Forbes’s advance on Fort Duquesne, and also the particulars of the advance on Fort Niagara under General’s Prideaux and Johnson, leading up to a decisive victory which gave the English control of all the vast territory lying between the great lakes and what was then the Louisiana Territory.

The French hold on North America was now badly shaken, but not altogether broken; and in the present volume are related the particulars of General Wolfe’s brilliant scaling of the Heights of Quebec, the battle on the Plains of Abraham, and the capture of the city itself.

Following the surrender of Quebec came a winter of dreary waiting for both sides in this great conflict. Each army looked for re-enforcements, and early in the spring the French made an attack, hoping to regain the ground lost. But this attack was repulsed, and then the French concentrated at Montreal, and hither were hurried the three divisions of the English army, including a goodly number of Colonial troops. With these forces was David Morris, doing his duty to the end, until the fall of Montreal brought this important and far-reaching war with France to a close.

As in his previous works, the author has sought to be as accurate as possible in historical detail—no easy task where American, English, and French historians differ so widely in their statements.

Once again I thank my young friends for the interest they have shown in my books. May the present volume prove both pleasing and profitable to them.

Edward Stratemeyer.

June 1, 1903.

ILLUSTRATIONS

AT THE FALL OF MONTREAL.

CHAPTER I
INTERESTING SPORT

“This looks like a good spot for fishing.”

“I don’t know but that you are right, Dave. Those trees back of us cut off most of the sunlight, and a hollow like that ought to be good for at least one fair-sized trout.”

“Do you think any of the other soldiers have been down to this part of the lake?”

“Hardly,” answered Henry Morris. “At least, there are no signs of them,” he went on, as he examined the ground with the care of an Indian trailer.

“If we are the first to try this vicinity we certainly ought to have good luck,” continued Dave Morris, as he dropped several of the traps he carried to the ground and began to prepare his fishing pole for use. “By the way, do you think there are any Indians in this vicinity?”

“Only those who are under command of Sir William Johnson. They sent all the French redskins about their business in short order.”

“How long do you suppose our troops will be kept around Fort Niagara?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Dave. We may get marching orders at any time. Now that the fort is ours all Sir William has to do is to leave a small force in command and then sail down the lake and the St. Lawrence to Montreal and Quebec. We’ve got the French on the run and we ought to keep ’em on the run until they give up fighting altogether.”

“I wonder if General Wolfe has had a battle yet.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. Reckon we’ll get word in a few days. But come, let us keep quiet, or we won’t get even a perch, much less a trout,” concluded Henry Morris.

David and Henry Morris were two young soldiers in the Colonial army, stationed at present at Fort Niagara, a stronghold located on the Niagara River, close to where that stream emptied into Lake Ontario.

The two youths were cousins, and when at home lived at Wills’ Creek, where the town of Cumberland, Va., stands to-day. The household consisted of Dave’s father, Mr. James Morris, who was a widower, and of Mr. Joseph Morris, his wife Lucy, and their three children: Rodney, the oldest, who was something of a cripple; Henry, already mentioned, and little Nell, the family pet.

When James Morris’s wife died the man, who was a trapper and a trader, became very disconsolate, and leaving his son Dave in his brother’s charge, he wandered to the West and established a trading-post on the Kinotah, a river flowing into the Ohio. This was at the time when George Washington was a young surveyor; and in the first volume of this series, entitled “With Washington in the West,” I related many of the particulars of how Dave fell in with the future President of our country, helped him in his surveying, and later on, when war broke out between the English and the French, marched under Washington in Braddock’s disastrous campaign against Fort Duquesne, located where the city of Pittsburg now stands.

The defeat of General Braddock meant much to James Morris. He had spent both time and money in establishing his trading-post on the Kinotah, and though a rascally French trader named Jean Bevoir had done his utmost to cheat him out of his belongings, Mr. Morris had considered his property safe until the trading-post was taken and he was made a prisoner. Dave was also captured by the French, but father and son escaped by the aid of White Buffalo, a friendly Indian of the Delawares, and Sam Barringford, an old frontiersman and a warm personal friend of all the Morrises.

Both England and her American colonies were now thoroughly aroused to the importance of a strong attack on the French and their Indian allies; and in the second volume of the series, entitled “Marching on Niagara,” were given the particulars of another campaign against Fort Duquesne, which was captured and renamed Fort Pitt, and then of a long and hard campaign against Fort Niagara, in which both Dave and Henry took an active part, accompanied by the ever-faithful Sam Barringford.

The march against Fort Duquesne and Fort Niagara had come only after a bloodthirsty uprising by the Indians, which even to-day is well remembered by the people living in Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New York, whose forefathers suffered from the attack. Cabins were burned, cattle stolen, and men, women, and children killed or mutilated. In some instances children were carried off by the Indians, and among these was little Nell, the sunshine of the Morris household.

The shock to Mrs. Lucy Morris was severe, and for a long time she could not be comforted. From various sources it was learned that the child had been taken first to one place and then another by the Indians, and at last it was ascertained that Nell was in the hands of some Indians under the command of Jean Bevoir, who had moved to the vicinity of Niagara Falls, where he intended to keep the little girl until the Morrises paid dearly for her ransom.

As soon as the capture of the fort was accomplished, and while some of the soldiers were hunting for game for food, several wounded prisoners were brought in, and among them was Jean Bevoir, who had been shot through the leg. The rascally French trader was now thoroughly cowed, and when threatened by Henry confessed that little Nell was being held a prisoner in a cave near the Falls. A march was made in that direction, and after an exciting chase of some Indians the little girl was rescued.

At the fort the whole matter was laid before Sir William Johnson, the Indian Superintendent, who had charge of the red men aiding the English, but who was now, because of the sudden death of General Prideaux, in command of all the troops. By Johnson’s order Jean Bevoir was placed in the hospital under military guard, to stand trial when physically able to do so.

The two young soldiers were overjoyed over the rescue of little Nell and promised themselves that Jean Bevoir should suffer roundly for his misdeeds. As for the little maiden, she was anxious to get back to her home, and soon set off with old Sam Barringford, the frontiersman having promised her folks that, if she was once found, he would not let her out of his sight again until she was safe in her mother’s arms.

The days following the fall of Fort Niagara had been comparatively quiet ones for the two young soldiers. It had not yet been decided what should be done with the French prisoners, although it was certain a large part of them would be shipped to England. The women and children who had followed the French to the fort for protection were placed under the guidance of some Catholic priests and allowed to depart for Montreal and other settlements in Canada.

The time was July, 1759, and the region for miles around the Niagara River and Lake Ontario was an almost unbroken forest, dotted here and there by the remains of an Indian camp or a French or English trading-post. Game had suffered but slightly from the hunting tours of the red men, and while the soldiers from England took but little interest in such sport, the frontiersman in the ranks seized the opportunity to supply themselves with fresh meat and also add a pelt or two to their scanty worldly store. Each day they would bring in one or more deer, and occasionally a buffalo, besides the skins of foxes, wild-cats, and other small animals, and innumerable birds, until the fort took on the look of a trading-post in spite of itself.

Dave and Henry were not slow to join in the hunting, and between them they one day brought in a deer which was the pride of the camp, weighing thirty-five pounds more than the next largest. This game Dave had wounded by a shot in the foreleg, and Henry had finished by a bullet through the left eye, for Henry, as my old readers already know, was a natural-born hunter and a skillful marksman as well.

Two days after bringing down the deer, and while the two had a half-day off-time, Dave proposed that they go fishing. His cousin was more than willing, and the pair lost no time in fitting up their poles and in obtaining bait, and thus equipped both set off for the lake front, tramped along until they came to a spot that looked particularly inviting, and then, as already described, prepared to try their luck.

CHAPTER II
THE INDIANS IN THE CANOE

It was a warm, clear day, and out on the broad bosom of the lake the sun shone brightly. There was a faint breeze from the west which rustled the leaves of the trees and sent an occasional ripple over the water. From the forest came the notes of the songbirds and the hum of countless insects.

Dave would have been satisfied to catch a good mess of perch, but he knew Henry’s heart was set on at least one fair-sized lake trout, so he did not bait up at once, but stood by, watching his cousin adjust his fishing outfit.

“There’s a fat fly fit to tempt any trout,” whispered Henry, as he brought the bait from a small box he carried. “Caught half a dozen of ’em down at the horse stable. The glitter of those bluish wings ought to fetch something. Here goes!”

Henry advanced to within six feet of the lake shore, at a point where a large tree and some rough rocks overhung the water. Here was a rather dark hole where the water was unusually quiet.

With the skill of a born fisherman, the young soldier made his cast, and as the still buzzing fly struck the water, he whipped it along by jerks, a few inches at a time.

Of a sudden there came a splash, the appearance and disappearance of something that might be a fish, and then a strong pull on the line.

“Hurrah, you’ve got him!” cried Dave. “Be careful how you play him, or he’ll break your line for you.”

“Yes, I’ve got him!” answered Henry, slowly and deliberately, playing his line as he spoke. “And he’s no small one either. If only those roots don’t tangle——Here he comes! Whoop!”

As the youth spoke, the fish made another dart. But Henry was ready for him, and in a twinkling the game lay on the moss between the trees, flopping wildly in an endeavor to get back into the lake. But both youths knew too much to let anything like that happen, and in a minute more Henry had his prize secure and strung on a twig with a forked end.

“What a fine haul for a start,” was Dave’s comment, as he gazed at the trout, that weighed several pounds. “I don’t believe we’ll get another fish as good.”

“No, and I don’t believe there is another trout in this vicinity, Dave. A big fellow like this keeps his territory to himself.”

Nevertheless, Henry tried his luck, not once but several times. But the flies went begging until some small fish came along and began to nibble at them, and then Henry drew in.

“That spot just below here ought to be good for perch,” said he, after a look around, and they moved on to the place mentioned, where both baited with worms dug up before starting on the trip.

Dave was the first to throw in, and his cousin waited until the bait was taken with a sudden short jerk. Dave pulled in steadily, and soon brought to light a perch as round and fat as one would wish to see.

“That’s a good start on perch,” observed Henry, with a smile. “And to my mind they are just as good to eat as trout, even if they are not so gamey.”

After this both fell to fishing with all the skill at their command, Dave remaining at the spot where he had made his first haul and Henry seeking a point a few rods farther up the shore.

Although both of the young soldiers felt that no enemy was in the immediate vicinity, yet they took care to keep in sight of each other and kept a constant watch on the forest behind them. Each had brought along his trusty flint-lock musket, and the weapons, loaded and primed, were kept easy to hand.

“Do you think Sam Barringford has reached home with Nell yet?” asked Dave, as Henry came toward him to get more bait.

“Hardly yet, Dave; but he ought to get there by the end of the week.”

“She’ll be glad to get back, won’t she? And how glad all of them will be to see her!”

“Yes, indeed!” Henry’s eyes brightened at the thought. “Do you know, it’s a wonder to me that she didn’t die of fright when she was in the clutches of those dirty redskins and that mean, miserable Jean Bevoir,” he went on.

“Bevoir pretends to be in an awfully bad condition, so one of the hospital surgeons told me. I reckon he is afraid of standing trial.”

“To be sure. He’ll stay in the hospital till they kick him out.” Henry gave a grave shake of his head. “He ought to be hung; but I suppose they won’t go as far as that.”

“It isn’t likely.”

The youths separated, and the fishing continued steadily, until each had a mess of ten or a dozen fish to his credit. The perch were all of good size, so the load to carry back to the fort would be no light one.

“Let us go down the shore and see if we can’t strike another trout hole,” said Dave. “I’d like to bring up one, even if he didn’t match yours.”

They proceeded along the lake shore, and soon reached another shady spot. Here they found two small trout, which were both landed by Dave, Henry in the meantime hunting in the forest and bringing out some sassafras and birch, which both began to munch as a relish.

“What a good trading-post one could establish up here,” observed Henry. “The game——” He broke off short. “What do you see?”

Dave was gazing out on the lake, and now he climbed on the rock to get a better view.

“It’s a canoe,” said Dave slowly. “And unless I am mistaken there are two or three Indians in it.”

“Some of Sir William’s followers most likely. Are they coming this way?”

“They are not paddling at all. They seem to be sleeping.”

“Sleeping? That’s queer.” Henry climbed up beside his cousin and gave an equally searching look. “I don’t believe they are sleeping at all, Dave. Those Indians are either dead or else shamming death.”

“Why should they come here shamming death, Henry?”

“Perhaps they are spies. We had better be on guard and keep out of sight.”

“But I think we ought to watch them.”

“Certainty; we can do it from behind yonder brushwood.”

It took but a minute to pick up their outfits and their catches, and with these they slipped behind the thicket Henry had mentioned. Here they kept themselves well hidden, each with his firearm in hand, ready for use should any shooting be required.

The canoe came closer slowly, and presently they made out that it contained two red men, both in warpaint and sporting the colors and feathers of the Delawares.

“If they are Delawares they should be friendly,” whispered Dave.

“Don’t be too sure. Remember, White Buffalo said that even his tribe was divided, the old chiefs standing up for the French and the young chiefs swearing by Washington and Sir William.”

“One of the redskins has raised himself and he is trying to paddle,” went on Dave, after a spell of silence. “He has got a bandage around his left forearm, as if he was wounded. See, he is talking to his companion, but the other fellow won’t budge. Do you know what I think? I think they are both badly wounded.”

“Even so, they may be enemies,” returned Henry, who had learned by bitter experience not to trust anybody until he proved himself a friend.

Gradually the canoe came up to the shore and they could see the faces of the occupants plainly. That they were suffering was evident, for the man at the bottom of the canoe lay in a pool of half-dried blood.

“I believe we ought to help them if we can,” whispered Dave, as the Indian who had held the paddle dropped in a heap on the seat. “I don’t believe they could harm us, no matter how they tried.”

After some hesitation Henry agreed, and guns in hand the pair stepped from the shelter of the bushes and walked down to the spot where the canoe had grounded.

“Hullo, redskins!” called out Henry. “What brings you here?”

At the sound of the young soldier’s voice the Indian on the seat stirred feebly. Then as he caught sight of the two on the shore he uttered a faint cry.

“English soldiers!” he murmured in his native tongue.

“I say, what brings you here?” repeated Henry.

“How?” muttered the red man in return, and tried to brace himself up. “Blue Crow much hurt. Got fire-water?”

“No, we haven’t any fire-water,” answered Dave. “How did you get hurt?”

“French soldiers shoot Blue Crow and Yellow Nose,” answered the Indian, with an effort. “Good English help um, yes?”

“Perhaps,” said Henry. “Where did you have the fight?”

“Udder shore of lake. Want to find the Great William. You help or Yellow Nose die,” went on the Indian, pointing to his silent companion.

Dave and Henry drew closer and lowered their muskets. What Blue Crow said was true—the Indian in the bottom of the canoe was wounded both in the breast and the stomach. He was breathing in loud gasps, and it was easy to see that his earthly career was fast approaching its end.

“I am sorry, but we can do nothing for your friend,” said Dave softly.

“Nothing?” repeated the Indian on the seat. “Nothing,—and Yellow Nose tried to do much for his English brothers.” He drew his mouth down bitterly. “His reward must come from the Great Spirit alone.”

“If you want to find Sir William Johnson we can take you to him,” said Henry. “The fort is only a short distance up the lake. We can paddle the canoe.”

“Let us bind up your wounds first,” said Dave, and this was done, and they also tried to do something for the Indian at the bottom of the canoe. But in the midst of their labors Yellow Nose breathed his last.

Having covered the dead Indian with a coat, and done all they could for Blue Crow, Dave and Henry took up the two paddles the canoe contained and lost no time in moving the craft up the lake in the direction of the Niagara River. They soon reached one of the usual boat landings, and here fell in with a score or more of soldiers. By this time Blue Crow had fainted away, and it took all the skill of one of the fort surgeons to revive him.

“He wants to see Sir William Johnson,” said Dave. “I believe he carries some sort of message.”

“Then we’ll take him up to the fort on a litter,” said the surgeon. “I do not believe he can recover. He has lost too much blood.”

By the time the fort was reached Blue Crow was in danger of another relapse. Sir William Johnson was speedily summoned. As he came in he recognized the Indian as one he knew fairly well.

“I am sorry for you,” he said, taking the Indian’s hand.

“Blue Crow is glad he has reached the Great William,” replied the red man. “He was afraid he would die before he met his English friend face to face. He comes many miles, from beyond the Thousand Islands of the St. Lawrence.”

“With a message?”

“Yes. He was sent by General Wolfe.”

“And what has General Wolfe to say?” demanded Sir William Johnson eagerly.

“He has fought the French, and—and has lo—lost. He—says—help—the French have—slain—I—’tis growing—dark—dark——”

The Indian gave a gasp, and tried to go on. Sir William Johnson raised him up and called for the surgeon. But it was too late—the red messenger was dead.

CHAPTER III
ON A DANGEROUS MISSION

To understand fully the importance of the news brought to Sir William Johnson by Blue Crow we shall have to go back a little and see what the English and Colonial soldiers were trying to do in this campaign of 1759 against the French.

Encouraged by the success at Fort Pitt and at other points, the king and the military leaders of the English had decided on a campaign which should strike at the French in three different places. General Prideaux and Sir William Johnson were to advance on Oswego and Fort Niagara, General Amherst was to push his way northward through the Lake Champlain territory, and General Wolfe was to sail from England with an army of eight thousand troops and move up the St. Lawrence River upon Quebec. As soon as the success of General Prideaux and of General Amherst was assured, these two branches of the English forces were to join Wolfe in his attack on the French stronghold.

As we have already seen, the attack on Fort Niagara was a brilliant success. But the advance of Amherst proved difficult. The French fled slowly before him, doing all they could to hinder his progress, and a succession of storms on the lake caused him a heavy loss of ships and stores. Some of his troops, the New Hampshire Rangers under Major Rogers, went as far as the village of St. Francis, which they destroyed, thus saving that part of New England from further trouble on the frontier, but with the coming of winter Amherst was compelled to go into winter quarters at Crown Point.

In the meantime, General Wolfe, on board the English fleet, reached the Canadian shore in June. News of his coming had already spread among the French, and it was felt that his attack would be directed against Quebec.

“We must save our beloved city, no matter what the cost!” was the cry throughout Canada; and to Quebec flocked both the regular French troops and also the French colonists, to the number of many thousands. All of these soldiers were placed under the command of General Montcalm, a wise and good soldier and one known for his thorough bravery.

As most of my young readers know, Quebec is located on a high bluff, overlooking the St. Lawrence. This bluff, or series of bluffs, extends along the river front for miles, making the task of reaching the city from the water a difficult one. But Montcalm was not to be caught napping, and he lost no time in fortifying the bluffs all the way from Quebec proper down the river to the Falls of Montmorenci, a distance of about five miles.

It was no easy task for the British fleet to sail up the St. Lawrence, which was difficult of navigation because of the many hidden rocks and shoals, but at length they reached the Island of Orleans, just below the city, and after a short brush with the inhabitants, who soon fled, the army took possession.

Early on the following morning General Wolfe went to the edge of the island and took a survey of the situation.

“It will be no easy matter to capture Quebec,” said one of his subordinates. “’Tis a regular Gibraltar.”

“It must be done,” answered Wolfe quietly.

He well understood the difficulty of the task before him. To scale those frowning walls would be hard, especially in the face of the French batteries, and back of the city were the still higher hills of Cape Diamond, also well fortified. All along the rocky shore could be seen the frowning cannon of Montcalm.

“General Wolfe must wait for help from Amherst and Prideaux,” was the comment of more than one old soldier, but Wolfe was resolved not to wait too long, fearing Montcalm would also be re-enforced, and that his own supplies would run short.

To destroy the English ships, Montcalm sent out a number of fire-boats, filled to the gunwales and rails with pitch, tar, and explosives. These made a brilliant illumination, but failed to do much damage.

Advancing from the Island of Orleans, General Wolfe captured Point Levi, where the town of Levis now stands. This was directly opposite Quebec, and from this point he was able to bombard the city, only about a mile away. This new movement of the English caused great alarm in Quebec, and plans for an immediate attack on Wolfe were begun by the armed townspeople, some Indians, and a number of young men from the Seminary.

The attack was to be made on the 12th of July, but as the motley collection of French and Indians drew close to the English camp in the darkness there was a sudden alarm, some of the crowd fired on their own friends, and then followed a panic, and all rushed back to the canoes which had brought them over, and made haste to paddle back to Quebec.

For this attack Wolfe made the French pay dearly. His cannon were trained on the water front before Quebec and on parts of the city itself, and inside of twenty-four hours a Cathedral and eighteen houses were burnt or wrecked by shot and shell. Mad with terror, the inhabitants fled to the back country, and sent word to Montcalm imploring the general to save them.

But it was not Wolfe’s intention to waste his ammunition by merely battering down the buildings of Quebec. He wished to capture the stronghold, and as it seemed to offer no chance at the front he resolved to move down the river once again, make a landing below the Falls of Montmorenci, and try to find his way around to the enemy’s rear.

The Montmorenci River is a wild and turbulent stream, flowing at the bottom of a deep gorge and leaping into the St. Lawrence over a cataract two hundred and more feet in height. On each side of the gorge was a dense forest, so a camp was made along the stream without molestation from the French soldiers, who lay concealed in the woods on the opposite side of the cataract.

General Levis was in command of the French detachment on guard at the Montmorenci. He wished to dislodge Wolfe at once, but was overruled by Vaudreuil, the French governor-general. Nevertheless some French Indians crossed at a hidden ford and drove back some of the English troops, from which they took thirty-six scalps.

There now ensued a number of small skirmishes in which the honors were about evenly divided. Some of the English troops landed above Quebec and gained a foothold, and there was a constant cannonading from both sides which did but little damage. Montcalm refused to move, and Wolfe at last decided to make a bold attack, both by the ford of the Montmorenci and by the river shore, where the receding tide at times left a long stretch of mud flats.

This was on the last day of July, just one week after the fall of Fort Niagara. The day promised fair, but in the afternoon there was a heavy downpour of rain, which wet the ammunition of the soldiers and made marching in the mud next to impossible. The English troops fought desperately, but were beaten back by the French batteries, and soon saw that to climb the slippery slopes before them would be impossible.

“We can’t make it,” said more than one, and reluctantly Wolfe had the retreat sounded, and the English withdrew, with a loss to the grenadiers and the Colonials of over four hundred killed and wounded.

It was a bitter blow, but how bitter the colonists at large did not know until some time later, for in those days there was neither telegraph nor train to carry the news. Among the Indians in the fight was Blue Crow, and he and his companion, Yellow Nose, were at once dispatched to Fort Niagara to tell General Prideaux of what had occurred and to learn when the force along Lake Ontario might be expected to move down the St. Lawrence.

The news received by Sir William Johnson was short and unsatisfactory, and both the bodies of the dead Indians and their canoe were searched for a possible written message, but without success. Sir William was much disturbed, for some instructions which had been forwarded to General Prideaux by General Amherst were also missing, and he scarcely knew how to turn next. General Gage, he knew, was coming to take command in his stead, but in the meanwhile time of great value might be lost.

“I will send out some spies toward Oswego,” he said, to several of his fellow officers. “If they are not stopped they can move on as far as the St. Lawrence. Perhaps they can bring in the news I wish.”

In the course of a talk with Dave and Henry regarding the manner in which the dead Indians had first been discovered, the commander mentioned that he wished to send out the spies, and Henry at once begged that he be allowed to go along.

“I take a deep interest, sir,” he said respectfully. “And I would consider it an honor to serve you in that way.”

“And so would I consider it an honor,” added Dave.

“Perhaps but it is likewise a risk, my lads,” answered the Indian Superintendent.

“We are used to taking risks,” went on Henry. “Both of us are fair shots and have been serving in the field ever since the war began.”

“I will think it over,” said Sir William. “One thing is in your favor—a youth can sometimes get through where a man is suspected and halted and very often shot down.”

“We should expect the same treatment that older men get,” answered Dave grimly.

Late that evening a party of six was made up, composed of a sharpshooter named Silvers, who was the leader, three backwoodsmen named Raymond, Gilfoy, and Shamer, and the two young soldiers. Silvers was given minute instructions as to what he must do, and was told to impart these instructions to the others after Fort Niagara was left behind. They were told to move forward at early dawn, and all spent two hours in getting ready for the trip, which they knew would be full of peril.

“It’s a big load on your shoulders,” said Shamer to the youths. He was a Dutch pioneer and had known them ever since they had joined the troops under Prideaux. “Maybe you don’t know the risk you are taking.”

“No larger on our shoulders than on yours,” laughed Dave.

“There may be French and Indian spies all around this lake,” went on Shamer.

“Why do you go?” demanded Henry.

“Me? Oh, I like the excitement.”

“Well, I reckon we like the excitement too,” said Dave; and then there was a short laugh, for nobody fully realized the great peril that the future held in store for them.

It was hardly four o’clock in the morning when Silvers came around and awakened the others, who had gone into a little camp of them own down by the lake front.

“No time to be lost,” he said. “We’ll get breakfast just as quick as we can.” And the meal was disposed of in short order.

It had been decided that the six should move down the lake in two small rowboats, each carrying its share of the stores taken along. Everybody was to take his turn at rowing, and the boats were to move along in the dark as well as during the daytime. By this means it was hoped that the distance, about a hundred and thirty miles, would be covered in less than three days.

“All ready?” asked Silvers, when the dishes were put away.

“All ready,” was the answer, from one and another. Then they entered the two rowboats, took up the oars, and before the morning sun shone over the surface of the placid lake the journey down the broad sheet of water was begun.

CHAPTER IV
A SQUALL ON LAKE ONTARIO

“If General Wolfe has suffered a heavy defeat it means a hard blow to our cause,” observed Dave, as the two rowboats glided over the water a short distance from each other.

“You are right,” answered the backwoodsman named Raymond. “Everybody was hoping he would sail right up the St. Lawrence and capture Quebec before the French were up to what he was doing.”

“I don’t think this war is over yet,” put in Gilfoy, a round-faced Irish-American. “Sure, when you sift it down, the French can fight as well as any of us, and they have just as many redskins to help ’em out as we have.”

“I think they have more,” put in Henry. “They have been buying up tribe after tribe with all sorts of presents and bribes—I heard Sir William himself say so.”

“I wish they had sent George Washington to Quebec,” came from Dave. “I don’t think he would have failed.”

“What do you know of Washington?” questioned Silvers.

“I used to work for him—when he was a surveyor for old Lord Fairfax—and I served under him when we marched against Fort Duquesne, at the time Braddock was defeated. It was Washington who saved what was left of us from being shot down like so many rabbits, when the redskins surrounded us in the forest.”

“Well, I know little of Washington, lad. But I do know it is going to take a plucky commander to capture Quebec, which is set up on high rocks like a regular fort,” returned the leader of the expedition.

For the first two hours of their journey they kept fairly close to the shore of the lake, gliding past long stretches of forest which have long since fallen before the axes of the pioneer and the lumberman. Here and there was a rocky cove backed up by sweet-scented shrubs and berry bushes, loaded down with tempting fruit. The morning calls of the birds could be heard, and the occasional howl of a lonely wolf, or the sharp bark of a fox.

“No use in talking,” was Henry’s comment, as he cast a longing eye shoreward. “It’s a regular paradise for game.”

“Then you like hunting, lad?” came from Shamer. “So do I, and nothing would please me better than to land and spend a day running down something big. But duty is duty, and we haven’t even a right to linger here,” and the tall sharpshooter bent his back to the blade he was working, and Henry, who was opposite, did the same.

The sun was now flooding the surface of the lake with a golden sheen and the day promised to be a hot one. Several of the soldiers had laid aside their coats, and now they took off other garments, in order that they might not perspire too freely.

By noon several of the party calculated that they had traveled twenty-four miles, and by a vote it was decided to pull into an inviting cove, where the shade was dense, and rest for half an hour and dispose of the midday meal.

“There is no use of our killing ourselves at the very start,” said Raymond. “We want to save ourselves a little, in case we get into some tight corner and have to row to save our lives.” And the others agreed with him.

The rest and meal on the grassy bank, overhung by the branches of some trees which had likely stood there for a century, came to an end all too soon, and once again they placed their traps in the rowboats and took up the oars. As they glided out onto the lake Silvers gave a look around.

“So far as I can see, not a soul is within sight of us,” he announced. “If there are Indians near they are not showing themselves at the water front.”

Nevertheless, it was not deemed advisable to hug the shore too closely, and they set a course which soon took them at least quarter of a mile from land.

It must be confessed that the rowing was now beginning to tell upon both Dave and Henry. But as they had enlisted to do their full share of the work, neither complained.

“Sure, and it’s no easy job to row hour after hour,” said Gilfoy presently. His experiences with a rowboat had been very limited. “’Twouldn’t be so bad if the sun wasn’t so hot.”

“Some clouds are coming up,” said Shamer a little later. “And by the feeling in the air I shouldn’t be surprised if we had a storm.”

The clouds he mentioned hung low down to the westward, and it was not until about four o’clock in the afternoon that they took a turn and came up with remarkable rapidity. Then followed a rush of cold air which was very pleasant.

“The wind is beginning to blow,” said Henry. “See the whitecaps it is tossing up.”

“The wind is all right, if it doesn’t get too strong,” replied Silvers. “But to my idea we are going to have more than we want of it presently.”

“Yes, and it’s coming now!” cried Shamer. “Look across the lake.”

They did so, and each saw that he was right. The dense clouds had circled around to the northwestward and the wind was coming in short, sharp puffs which piled the whitecaps one over the other. Then came a sudden rush of air which sent the rowboats careening in a dangerous fashion.

“Hi! we can’t stand this!” exclaimed Gilfoy. “Before we know it we’ll all be at the bottom. Let us make for shore.”

“Yes, and we can’t be too quick about it,” added Raymond. “This squall is going to be a heavy one.”

Silvers admitted that they were right, and without delay the two rowboats were headed for shore, at a point where a curving cove seemed to promise safety.

All pulled with a will, yet long before the cove was gained, the squall struck them, sending a shower of spray in all directions and causing each craft to rock violently.

“Oh!” cried Dave, as some water hit him in the ear. “This is as bad as was the storm we struck when we rowed from Oswego to Fort Niagara.”

“Don’t say a word—it’s a regular Niagara in itself!” gasped Henry, as a downpour of rain followed the gust of wind.

“We can be thankful we are not further out on the lake,” came from Raymond. “Now then, all together, and we’ll soon be safe!”

They bent to the oars with a will, two in each boat rowing and the third steering. Another gust hit them, giving them a second ducking, and now followed a veritable cloud-burst of rain. But in a few minutes the cove was gained, and they glided under some overhanging branches and thick bushes.

“We are well out of that!” said Henry, when he could catch his breath. “Just listen to the wind whistle!”

“It won’t last,” said Silvers. “In an hour from now the sun will be shining as brightly as ever.”

The wind whistled through the treetops, but down close to the water the breeze did not touch them, and only a few drops of rain entered the rowboats. Luckily they had covered their stores and ammunition with tarpaulins, so no damage was done in that direction.

“This is something we didn’t bargain for, eh?” came from Raymond. “Had we been far out on the lake the chances are we should have been swamped.”

As the leader of the little expedition had said, the squall did not last, and in exactly three-quarters of an hour after it began the clouds shifted, the sun came out, and the rain ceased as if by magic.

“Now, men, we must make up for time lost,” said Silvers. “We’ve all had a pretty good rest.”

“This squall has changed its course, but I’ll wager a mug of cider it comes back by sundown,” said Gilfoy.

“And I say the same,” added Shamer.

“In that case we want to get as far as possible before it does come back,” came from Henry. “The little breeze that is still blowing is in our favor.”

Once again the two rowboats were headed down the lake, and each stroke sent the craft shooting on their course. The water was still a trifle rough, but what they lost by this was more than made up by the breeze behind them.

“The air puts new life into a fellow,” said Dave. “I feel fresher than I did when we started after dinner.”

By sundown another ten or twelve miles had been covered. The wind had now veered around and was blowing strongly from the northeast. The sky looked heavy, and despite their best efforts it was impossible to make headway down the lake.

“We’ll have to go ashore for the night,” said Silvers. “More than likely the wind will die down during the night.”

After their varied experiences of the day, Dave and Henry were not sorry to leave the oars and take it easy in a sheltered spot picked out by the leader of the expedition. After a careful survey of the location, to make certain that no enemies were near, a tiny camp-fire was lit in a hollow, and over this were broiled some fish which Henry and Raymond caught.

Silvers had been ordered to keep a constant guard both on the lake and on the land by Sir William Johnson, and when it came time to lie down to sleep he divided the night into watches of an hour and a half each, so that all might share in the duty and yet get the benefit of sufficient rest for the next day’s work.

Henry was on guard from half-past ten until midnight, when Dave relieved him.

“Have you seen anything?” asked Dave, as he arose and stretched himself, for he had been sleeping soundly.

“Nothing at all,” answered his cousin, in a whisper, so as not to arouse the others. “It looks to me as if a guard is unnecessary; but we have got to obey orders.”

But little more was said, and in a few minutes Henry was sleeping peacefully, on a mossy bank close to Raymond the backwoodsman. Dave took up his musket and began to walk around the camp, to awaken himself still more, for he was yet drowsy.

The fire had been allowed to die down, for in spite of the storm nobody seemed to desire the heat, and all had been wet a hundred times before.

After a walk lasting several minutes, and feeling that all was safe, Dave sat down on a fallen tree trunk to meditate. His thoughts were scattered, but presently centered on home. In his mind’s eye he could see the big living room of the cabin, with its immense open chimney, its rude furnishings, and its neatly sanded floor. In the easy chair in a corner sat his crippled cousin, Rodney, doing some work that did not require his moving about, and close at hand was his Aunt Lucy, also busy, and with a sweet face not easily forgotten. And then he fancied he could hear a shout from without, and he could see his aunt catch up the gun behind the door in alarm. But the gun fell from her hands when she saw it was her husband and Dave’s father approaching, with faithful old Sam Barringford and little Nell. And then he fancied he saw little Nell give a leap straight into her mother’s arms and then into the arms of Rodney.

“I’d like to be there when she gets home,” he thought. “I know Aunt Lucy’s cheeks will be wet with tears of joy. And they’ll all be glad and the neighbors will come in and there will be a regular jubilee, and——”