WITH WOLFE IN CANADA

Or The Winning of a Continent

by

G. A. Henty

1894

CONTENTS:

 Preface. Chapter 1: A Rescue. Chapter 2: The Showman's Grandchild. Chapter 3: The Justice Room. Chapter 4: The Squire's Granddaughter. Chapter 5: A Quiet Time. Chapter 6: A Storm. Chapter 7: Pressed. Chapter 8: Discharged. Chapter 9: The Defeat Of Braddock. Chapter 10: The Fight At Lake George. Chapter 11: Scouting. Chapter 12: A Commission. Chapter 13: An Abortive Attack. Chapter 14: Scouting On Lake Champlain. Chapter 15: Through Many Perils. Chapter 16: The Massacre At Fort William Henry. Chapter 17: Louisbourg And Ticonderoga. Chapter 18: Quebec. Chapter 19: A Dangerous Expedition. Chapter 20: The Path Down The Heights. Chapter 21: The Capture Of Quebec. 

Preface. 

My Dear Lads, In the present volume I have endeavoured to give the details of theprincipal events in a struggle whose importance can hardly beoverrated. At its commencement the English occupied a mere patch ofland on the eastern seaboard of America, hemmed in on all sides by theFrench, who occupied not only Canada in the north and Louisiana in thesouth, but possessed a chain of posts connecting them, so cutting offthe English from all access to the vast countries of the west. 

On the issues of that struggle depended not only the destiny of Canada, but of the whole of North America and, to a large extent, that of thetwo mother countries. When the contest began, the chances of Francebecoming the great colonizing empire of the world were as good as thoseof England. Not only did she hold far larger territories in Americathan did England, but she had rich colonies in the West Indies, wherethe flag of England was at that time hardly represented, and herprospects in India were better than our own. At that time, too, shedisputed with us on equal terms the empire of the sea. 

The loss of her North American provinces turned the scale. With themonopoly of such a market, the commerce of England increasedenormously, and with her commerce her wealth and power of extension, while the power of France was proportionately crippled. It is truethat, in time, the North American colonies, with the exception ofCanada, broke away from their connection with the old country; but theystill remained English, still continued to be the best market for ourgoods and manufactures. 

Never was the short-sightedness of human beings shown more distinctly, than when France wasted her strength and treasure in a sterile conteston the continent of Europe, and permitted, with scarce an effort, herNorth American colonies to be torn from her. 

All the historical details of the war have been drawn from theexcellent work entitled Montcalm and Wolfe, by Mr. Francis Parkman, andfrom the detailed history of the Louisbourg and Quebec expeditions, byMajor Knox, who served under Generals Amherst and Wolfe. 

Yours very sincerely, G. A. Henty. 

Chapter 1: A Rescue. 

Most of the towns standing on our seacoast have suffered a radicalchange in the course of the last century. Railways, and the fashion ofsummer holiday making, have transformed them altogether, and greattowns have sprung up where fishing villages once stood. There are a fewplaces, however, which seem to have been passed by, by the crowd. Thenumber yearly becomes smaller, as the iron roads throw out freshbranches. With the advent of these comes the speculative builder. Rowsof terraces and shops are run up, promenades are made, bathing machinesand brass bands become familiar objects, and in a few years theoriginal character of the place altogether disappears. 

Sidmouth, for a long time, was passed by, by the world of holidaymakers. East and west of her, great changes took place, and many farsmaller villages became fashionable seaside watering places. Therailway, which passed by some twelve miles away, carried its tens ofthousands westward, but left few of them for Sidmouth, and anyone whovisited the pretty little place, fifteen years back, would have seen italmost as it stood when our story opens a century ago. 

There are few places in England with a fairer site. It lies embosomedin the hills, which rise sharply on either side of it, while behindstretches a rich, undulating country, thickly dotted with orchards andsnug homesteads, with lanes bright with wildflowers and ferns, withhigh hedges and trees meeting overhead. The cold breezes, which renderso bare of interest the walks round the great majority of our seasidetowns, pass harmlessly over the valley of the Sid, where the vegetationis as bright and luxuriant as if the ocean lay leagues away, instead ofbreaking on the shore within a few feet of the front line of houses. 

The cliffs which, on either side, rise from the water's edge, areneither white like those to the east, nor grey as are the ruggedbulwarks to the west. They are of a deep red, warm and pleasant to theeye, with clumps of green showing brightly up against them on everylittle ledge where vegetation can get a footing; while the beach isneither pebble, nor rock, nor sand, but a smooth, level surface slopingevenly down; hard and pleasant to walk on when the sea has gone down, and the sun has dried and baked it for an hour or two; but slippery andtreacherous when freshly wetted, for the red cliffs are of clay. Thosewho sail past in a boat would hardly believe that this is so, for thesun has baked its face, and the wind dried it, till it is cracked andseamed, and makes a brave imitation of red granite; but the clammyooze, when the sea goes down, tells its nature only too plainly, andSidmouth will never be a popular watering place for children, for thereis no digging sand castles here, and a fall will stain light dressesand pinafores a ruddy hue, and the young labourers will look as if theyhad been at work in a brick field. 

But a century since, the march of improvement had nowhere begun; andthere were few larger, and no prettier, seaside villages on the coastthan Sidmouth. 

It was an afternoon in August. The sun was blazing down hotly, scarce abreath of wind was stirring, and the tiny waves broke along the shorewith a low rustle like that of falling leaves. Some fishermen were atwork, recaulking a boat hauled up on the shore. Others were laying outsome nets to dry in the sun. Some fisher boys were lying asleep, likedogs basking in the heat; and a knot of lads, sitting under the shadeof a boat, were discussing with some warmth the question of smuggling. 

"What do you say to it, Jim Walsham?" one of the party said, looking upat a boy some twelve years old, who was leaning against a boat, but whohad hitherto taken no part in the discussion. 

"There is no doubt that it's wrong, " the boy said. "Not wrong likestealing, and lying, and that sort of thing; still it's wrong, becauseit's against the law; and the revenue men, if they come upon a ganglanding the tubs, fight with them, and if any are killed they are notblamed for it, so there is no doubt about its being wrong. Then, on theother hand, no one thinks any the worse of the men that do it, andthere is scarce a one, gentle or simple, as won't buy some of the stuffif he gets a chance, so it can't be so very wrong. It must be great funto be a smuggler, to be always dodging the king's cutters, and runningcargoes under the nose of the officers ashore. There is some excitementin a life like that. "

"There is plenty of excitement in fishing, " one of the boys saidsturdily. "If you had been out in that storm last March, you would havehad as much excitement as you liked. For twelve hours we expected to godown every minute, and we were half our time bailing for our lives. "

An approving murmur broke from the others, who were all, with theexception of the one addressed as Jim Walsham, of the fisher class. Hisclothing differed but little from that of the rest. His dark blue pilottrousers were old and sea stained, his hands and face were dyed brownwith exposure to the sun and the salt water; but there was something, in his manner and tone of voice, which showed that a distinctionexisted. 

James Walsham was, indeed, the son of the late doctor of the village, who had died two years previously. Dr. Walsham had been clever in hisprofession, but circumstances were against him. Sidmouth and itsneighbourhood were so healthy, that his patients were few and farbetween; and when he died, of injuries received from being thrown overhis horse's head, when the animal one night trod on a stone coming downthe hill into Sidmouth, his widow and son were left almost penniless. 

Mrs. Walsham was, fortunately, an energetic woman, and a fortnightafter her husband's death, she went round among the tradesmen of theplace and the farmers of the neighbourhood, and announced her intentionof opening a school for girls. She had received a good education, beingthe daughter of a clergyman, and she soon obtained enough pupils toenable her to pay her way, and to keep up the pretty home in which herhusband lived in the outskirts of Sidmouth. 

If she would have taken boarders, she could have obtained far higherterms, for good schools were scarce; but this she would not do, and herpupils all lived within distances where they could walk backwards andforwards to their homes. Her evenings she devoted to her son, and, though the education which she was enabled to give him would beconsidered meagre, indeed, in these days of universal cramming, helearned as much as the average boy of the period. 

He would have learned more had he followed her desires, and devoted thetime when she was engaged in teaching to his books; but this he did notdo. For a few hours in the day he would work vigorously at his lessons. The rest of his time he spent either on the seashore, or in the boatsof the fishermen; and he could swim, row, or handle a boat under sailin all weather, as well or better than any lad in the village of hisown age. 

His disposition was a happy one, and he was a general favourite amongthe boatmen. He had not, as yet, made up his mind as to his future. Hismother wanted him to follow his father's profession. He himself longedto go to sea, but he had promised his mother that he would never do sowithout her consent, and that consent he had no hope of obtaining. 

The better-class people in the village shook their heads gravely overJames Walsham, and prophesied no good things of him. They consideredthat he demeaned himself greatly by association with the fisher boys, and more than once he had fallen into disgrace, with the more quietminded of the inhabitants, by mischievous pranks. His reputation thatway once established, every bit of mischief in the place, which couldnot be clearly traced to someone else, was put down to him; and as hewas not one who would peach upon others to save himself, he was seldomin a position to prove his innocence. 

The parson had once called upon Mrs. Walsham, and had talked to hergravely over her son's delinquencies, but his success had not beenequal to his anticipations. Mrs. Walsham had stood up warmly for herson. 

"The boy may get into mischief sometimes, Mr. Allanby, but it is thenature of boys to do so. James is a good boy, upright and honourable, and would not tell a lie under any consideration. What is he to do? IfI could afford to send him to a good school it would be a differentthing, but that you know I cannot do. From nine in the morning, untilfive in the afternoon, my time is occupied by teaching, and I cannotexpect, nor do I wish, that he should sit moping indoors all day. Hehad far better be out in the boats with the fishermen, than be hangingabout the place doing nothing. If anything happened to me, before he isstarted in life, there would be nothing for him but to take to the sea. I am laying by a little money every month, and if I live for anotheryear there will be enough to buy him a fishing boat and nets. I trustthat it may not come to that, but I see nothing derogatory in hisearning an honest living with his own hands. He will always besomething better than a common fisherman. The education I have strivento give him, and his knowledge that he was born a gentleman, will nervehim to try and rise. 

"As to what you say about mischief, so far as I know all boys aremischievous. I know that my own brothers were always getting intoscrapes, and I have no doubt, Mr. Allanby, that when you look back uponyour own boyhood, you will see that you were not an exception to thegeneral rule. "

Mr. Allanby smiled. He had come rather against his own inclinations;but his wife had urged him to speak to Mrs. Walsham, her temper beingruffled by the disappearance of two favourite pigeons, whose loss she, without a shadow of evidence, most unjustly put down to James Walsham. 

The parson was by no means strict with his flock. He was a tall man, inclined to be portly, a good shot and an ardent fisherman; andalthough he did not hunt, he was frequently seen on his brown cob atthe meet, whenever it took place within a reasonable distance ofSidmouth; and without exactly following the hounds, his knowledge ofthe country often enabled him to see more of the hunt than those whodid. 

As Mrs. Walsham spoke, the memory of his old school and college dayscame across him. 

"That is the argumentum ad hominem, Mrs. Walsham, and when a lady takesto that we can say no more. You know I like your boy. There is muchthat is good in him; but it struck me that you were letting him run alittle too wild. However, there is much in what you say, and I don'tbelieve that he is concerned in half the mischief that he gets creditfor. Still, you must remember that a little of the curb, just a little, is good for us all. It spoils a horse to be always tugging at hismouth, but he will go very badly if he does not feel that there is ahand on the reins. 

"I have said the same thing to the squire. He spoils that boy of his, for whom, between ourselves, I have no great liking. The old man willhave trouble with him before he is done, or I am greatly mistaken. "

Nothing came of Mr. Allanby's visit. Mrs. Walsham told James that hehad been there to remonstrate with her. 

"I do not want to stop you from going out sailing, Jim; but I wish youwould give up your mischievous pranks, they only get you bad will and abad name in the place. Many people here think that I am wrong inallowing you to associate so much with the fisher boys, and when youget into scrapes, it enables them to impress upon me how right theywere in their forecasts. I do not want my boy to be named in the samebreath with those boys of Robson's, or young Peterson, or Blame. "

"But you know I have nothing to do with them, mother, " James saidindignantly. "They spend half their time about the public house, andthey do say that when Peterson has been out with that lurcher of his, he has been seen coming back with his coat bulged out, and there isoften a smell of hare round his father's cottage at supper time. Youknow I wouldn't have anything to do with them. "

"No, Jim, I am sure you would not; but if people mix up your name withtheirs it is almost as bad for you as if you had. Unfortunately, peopleare too apt not to distinguish between tricks which are really only theoutcome of high spirit, and a lack of something better to do, and realvice. Therefore, Jim, I say, keep yourself from mischief. I know that, though you are out of doors so many hours of the day, you really do getthrough a good deal of work; but other people do not give you creditfor this. Remember how your father was respected here. Try to actalways as you would have done had he been alive, and you cannot go farwrong. "

James had done his best, but he found it hard to get rid of hisreputation for getting into mischief, and more than once, when falselysuspected, he grumbled that he might just as well have the fun of thething, for he was sure to have the blame. 

As Jim Walsham and his companions were chatting in the shade of a boat, their conversation was abruptly broken off by the sight of a figurecoming along the road. It was a tall figure, with a stiff militarybearing. He was pushing before him a large box, mounted on a frameworksupported by four wheels. Low down, close to the ground, swung a largeflat basket. In this, on a shawl spread over a thick bed of hay, sat alittle girl some five years old. 

"It is the sergeant, " one of the boys exclaimed. "I wonder whether hehas got a fresh set of views? The last were first-rate ones. "

The sergeant gave a friendly nod to the boys as he passed, and then, turning up the main street from the beach, went along until he came toa shaded corner, and there stopped. The boys had all got up andfollowed him, and now stood looking on with interest at hisproceedings. The little girl had climbed out of her basket as soon ashe stopped, and after asking leave, trotted back along the street tothe beach, and was soon at play among the seaweed and stones. 

She was a singularly pretty child, with dark blue eyes, and brown hairwith a touch of gold. Her print dress was spotlessly clean and neat; ahuge flapping sunbonnet shaded her face, whose expression was brightand winning. 

"Well, boys, " the sergeant said cheerfully, "how have you been gettingon since I was here last? Nobody drowned, I hope, or come to any ill. Not that we must grumble, whatever comes. We have all got to do ourduty, whether it be to march up a hill with shot and shell screamingand whistling round, as I have had to do; or to be far out at sea withthe wind blowing fit to take the hair off your head, as comes to yourlot sometimes; or following the plough from year's end to year's end, as happens to some. We have got to make the best of it, whatever it is. 

"I have got a grand new set of pictures from Exeter. They came all theway down from London town for me by waggon. London Bridge, and WindsorCastle, with the flag flying over it, telling that the king--God blesshis gracious majesty--is at home. 

"Then, I have got some pictures of foreign parts that will make youopen your eyes. There's Niagara. I don't know whether you've heard ofit, but it's a place where a great river jumps down over a wall ofrock, as high as that steeple there, with a roar like thunder that canbe heard, they say, on a still night, for twenty miles round. 

"I have got some that will interest you more still, because you aresailors, or are going to be sailors. I have got one of the killing of awhale. He has just thrown a boat, with five sailors, into the air, witha lash of his tail; but it's of no use, for there are other boatsround, and the harpoons are striking deep in his flesh. He is a bigfish, and a strong one; but he will be beaten, for he does not know howto use his strength. That's the case with many men. They throw awaytheir life and their talents, just because they don't know what's inthem, and what they might do if they tried. 

"And I have got a picture of the fight with the Spanish Armada. Youhave heard about that, boys, surely; for it began out there, over thewater, almost in sight of Sidmouth, and went on all the way up theChannel; our little ships hanging on to the great Spaniards and givingthem no rest, but worrying them, and battering them, till they wereglad to sail away to the Dutch coast. But they were not safe there, forwe sent fire ships at them, and they had to cut and run; and then astorm came on, and sunk many, and drove others ashore all around ourcoasts, even round the north of Scotland and Ireland. 

"You will see it all here, boys, and as you know, the price is only onepenny. "

By this time, the sergeant had let down one side of the box anddiscovered four round holes, and had arranged a low stool in front, forany of those, who were not tall enough to look through the glasses, tostand upon. A considerable number of girls and boys had now gatheredround, for Sergeant Wilks and his show were old, established favouritesat Sidmouth, and the news of his arrival had travelled quickly roundthe place. 

Four years before, he had appeared there for the first time, and sincethen had come every few months. He travelled round the southwesterncounties, Dorset and Wilts, Somerset, Devon, and Cornwall, and hischeery good temper made him a general favourite wherever he went. 

He was somewhat of a martinet, and would have no crowding and pushing, and always made the boys stand aside till the girls had a good look;but he never hurried them, and allowed each an ample time to see thepictures, which were of a better class than those in most travellingpeep shows. There was some murmuring, at first, because the showcontained none of the popular murders and blood-curdling scenes towhich the people were accustomed. 

"No, " the sergeant had said firmly, when the omission was suggested tohim; "the young ones see quite enough scenes of drunkenness andfighting. When I was a child, I remember seeing in a peep show thepicture of a woman lying with her head nearly cut off, and her husbandwith a bloody chopper standing beside her; and it spoiled my sleep forweeks. No, none of that sort of thing for Sergeant Wilks. He has foughtfor his country, and has seen bloodshed enough in his time, and theground half covered with dead and dying men; but that was duty--this ispleasure. Sergeant Wilks will show the boys and girls, who pay himtheir pennies, views in all parts of the world, such as would cost themthousands of pounds if they travelled to see them, and all as naturalas life. He will show them great battles by land and sea, where thesoldiers and sailors shed their blood like water in the service oftheir country. But cruel murders and notorious crimes he will not showthem. "

It was not the boys and girls, only, who were the sergeant's patrons. Picture books were scarce in those days, and grown-up girls and youngmen were not ashamed to pay their pennies to peep into the sergeant'sbox. 

There was scarcely a farm house throughout his beat where he was notknown and welcomed. His care of the child, who, when he first cameround, was but a year old, won the heart of the women; and a bowl ofbread and milk for the little one, and a mug of beer and a hunch ofbread and bacon for himself, were always at his service, before heopened his box and showed its wonders to the maids and children of thehouse. 

Sidmouth was one of his regular halting places, and, indeed, he visitedit more often than any other town on his beat. There was always a roomready for him there, in the house of a fisherman's widow, when hearrived on the Saturday, and he generally stopped till the Monday. Thushe had come to know the names of most of the boys of the place, as wellas of many of the elders; for it was his custom, of a Saturday evening, after the little one was in bed, to go and smoke his pipe in thetaproom of the "Anchor, " where he would sometimes relate tales of hisadventures to the assembled fishermen. But, although chatty and cheerywith his patrons, Sergeant Wilks was a reticent, rather than atalkative, man. At the "Anchor" he was, except when called upon for astory, a listener rather than a talker. 

As to his history, or the county to which he belonged, he never alludedto it, although communicative enough as to his military adventures; andany questions which were asked him, he quietly put on one side. He hadintimated, indeed, that the father and mother of his grandchild wereboth dead; but it was not known whether she was the child of his son ordaughter; for under his cheerful talk there was something of militarystrictness and sternness, and he was not a man of whom idle questionswould be asked. 

"Now, boys and girls, " he said, "step up; the show is ready. Those whohave got a penny cannot spend it better. Those who haven't must try andget their father or mother to give them one, and see the show later on. Girls first. Boys should always give way to their sisters. The bravestmen are always the most courteous and gentle with women. "

Four girls, of various ages, paid their pennies and took their placesat the glasses, and the sergeant then began to describe the pictures, his descriptions of the wonders within being so exciting, that severalboys and girls stole off from the little crowd, and made their way totheir homes to coax their parents out of the necessary coin. 

James Walsham listened a while, and then walked away to the sea, forthere would be several sets of girls before it came to the turn of theboys. He strolled along, and as he came within sight of the beachstopped for a moment suddenly, and then, with a shout, ran forward atthe top of his speed. 

The little girl, after playing some time with the seaweed, had climbedinto a small boat which lay at the edge of the advancing tide, and, leaning over the stern, watched the little waves as they ran up oneafter another. A few minutes after she had got into it, the rising tidefloated the boat, and it drifted out a few yards, as far as itsheadrope allowed it. Ignorant of what had happened, the child waskneeling up at the stern, leaning over, and dabbling her hands in thewater. 

No one had noticed her. The boys had all deserted the beach. None ofthe fishermen were near the spot. 

Just before James Walsham came within sight of the sea, the child hadoverbalanced itself. His eye fell on the water just as two arms and afrightened little face appeared above it. There was a little splash, and a struggle, and the sea was bare again. 

At the top of his speed James dashed across the road, sprang down thebeach, and, rushing a few yards into the water, dived down. He knewwhich way the tide was making, and allowed for the set. A few vigorousstrokes, and he reached something white on the surface. It was thesunbonnet which had, in the child's struggles, become unfastened. Hedived at once, and almost immediately saw a confused mass before him. Another stroke, and he seized the child's clothes, and, grasping herfirmly, rose to the surface and swam towards shore. 

Although the accident had not been perceived, his shout and sudden rushinto the water had called the attention of some of the men, and two orthree of them ran into the water, waist deep, to help him out with hislittle burden. 

"Well done, Master Walsham! The child would have been drowned if youhad not seed it. None of us noticed her fall over. She was playing onthe beach last time I seed her. "

"Is she dead?" James asked, breathless from his exertions. 

"Not she, " the fisherman said. "She could not have been under water aminute. Take her into my cottage, it's one of the nighest. My wife willput her between the blankets, and will soon bring her round. "

The fisherman's wife met them at the door, and, taking the child fromthe lad, carried it in, and soon had her wrapped up in blankets. Butbefore this was done she had opened her eyes, for she had scarcely lostconsciousness when James had seized her. 

The lad stood outside the door, waiting for the news, when the sergeanthurried up, one of the fishermen having gone to tell him what hadhappened, as soon as the child had been carried into thecottage--assuring him, as he did so, that the little one would speedilycome round. 

Just as he came up the door of the cottage opened, and one of thewomen, who had run in to assist the fisherman's wife, put her head out. 

"She has opened her eyes, " she said. "The little dear will soon be allright. "

"Thank God for His mercies!" the sergeant said, taking off his hat. "What should I have done if I had lost her?

"And I have to thank you, next to God, " he said, seizing the boy'shand. "May God bless you, young gentleman! and reward you for havingsaved my darling. They tell me she must have been drowned, but for you, for no one knew she had fallen in. Had it not been for you, I shouldcome round to look for her, and she would have been gone--goneforever!" and the showman dashed the tears from his eyes with the backof his hand. 

"I was only just in time, " the lad said. "I did not see her fall out ofthe boat. She was only a few yards away from it when she came up--justas my eyes fell on the spot. I am very glad to have saved her for you;but, of course, it was nothing of a swim. She could not have been manyyards out of my depth. Now I will run home and change my things. "

James Walsham was too much accustomed to be wet through, to careanything about his dripping clothes, but they served him as an excuseto get away, for he felt awkward and embarrassed at the gratitude ofthe old soldier. He pushed his way through the little crowd, which hadnow gathered round, and started at a run; for the news had broughtalmost all those gathered round the peep show to the shore, theexcitement of somebody being drowned being superior even to that of thepeep show, to the great majority; though a few, who had no hope ofobtaining the necessary pennies, had lingered behind, and seized theopportunity for a gratuitous look through the glasses. 

James ran upstairs and changed his clothes without seeing his mother, and then, taking down one of his lesson books, set to work, shrinkingfrom the idea of going out again, and being made a hero of. 

Half an hour later there was a knock at the front door, and a fewminutes after his mother called him down. He ran down to the parlour, and there found the showman. 

"Oh, I say, " the boy broke out, "don't say anything more about it! I dohate being thanked, and there was nothing in swimming ten yards in acalm sea. Please don't say anything more about it. I would rather youhit me, ever so much. "

The sergeant smiled gravely, and Mrs. Walsham exclaimed:

"Why didn't you come in and tell me about it, Jim? I could not make outat first what Mr. --Mr. --"

"Sergeant Wilks, madam. "

"What Sergeant Wilks meant, when he said that he had called to tell mehow grateful he felt to you for saving his little grandchild's life. Iam proud of you, Jim. "

"Oh, mother, don't!" the boy exclaimed. "It is horrid going on so. If Ihad swum out with a rope through the surf, there might be something init; but just to jump in at the edge of the water is not worth making afuss about, one way or the other. "

"Not to you, perhaps, young gentleman, but it is to me, " the showmansaid. "The child is the light of my life, the only thing I have to carefor in the world, and you have saved her. If it had only been bystretching out your hand, I should have been equally grateful. However, I will say no more about it, but I shall not think the less. 

"But don't you believe, madam, that there was no credit in it. It wasjust the quickness and the promptness which saved her life. Had yourson hesitated a moment it would have been too late, for he would neverhave found her. It is not likely that your son will ever have anyoccasion for help of mine, but should there be an opportunity, he mayrely upon it that any service I can render him shall be his to thedeath; and, unlikely as it may seem, it may yet turn out that thisbrave act of his, in saving the life of the granddaughter of atravelling showman, will not be without its reward. "

"Is she all right now?" James asked abruptly, anxious to change theconversation. 

"Yes. She soon came to herself, and wanted to tell me all about it; butI would not let her talk, and in a few minutes she dropped off tosleep, and there I left her. The women tell me she will probably sleeptill morning, and will then be as well as ever. And now I must go andlook after my box, or the boys will be pulling it to pieces. "

It was, however, untouched, for in passing the sergeant had told thelittle crowd that, if they left it alone, he would, on his return, letall see without payment; and during the rest of the afternoon he wasfully occupied with successive audiences, being obliged to make hislectures brief, in order that all might have their turn. 

After the sergeant had left, James took his hat and went for a longwalk in the country, in order to escape the congratulations of theother boys. The next day little Agnes was perfectly well, and appearedwith her grandfather in the seat, far back in the church, which healways occupied on the Sundays he spent at Sidmouth. On these occasionsshe was always neatly and prettily dressed, and, indeed, some of thegood women of the place, comparing the graceful little thing with theirown children, had not been backward in their criticisms on the folly ofthe old showman, in dressing his child out in clothes fit for a lady. 

Chapter 2: The Showman's Grandchild. 

Three months later the showman again appeared at Sidmouth, but did notset up his box as usual. Leaving it at his lodging, he went at oncewith his grandchild to Mrs. Walsham's. 

"I have come, madam, " he said after the first inquiries about the childhad been answered, "on a particular business. It will seem a strangething to you for a man like me to ask, but things are not quite as theyseem, though I can't explain it now. But I am beating about the bush, and not getting any nearer. I have come to ask, madam, whether youwould take charge of the child for two years. Of course I am ready topay anything that you may think proper. "

"But I don't take boarders, " Mrs. Walsham said, much surprised at theproposition. "I only take girls who come in the morning and go away inthe afternoon. Besides, they are all a good many years older than yourgrandchild. None of the girls who come to me are under twelve. "

"I know, ma'm, I know; and I am sure you must think it a great libertyon my part to ask such a thing, " the sergeant said apologetically. "Itis not the teaching I want, but just a home for her. "

Mrs. Walsham felt puzzled. She did, in her heart, feel it to be aliberty. Surely this wandering showman would find no difficulty ingetting his grandchild taken care of among people of his own rank inlife. It did seem most singular that he should seek to place the childwith her. Mrs. Walsham was not given to thinking what her neighbourswould say, but she thought of the buzz of comment and astonishmentwhich her taking the charge of this child would excite. She had beenparticular in keeping her little school to some extent select, and asit was now as large as she could manage unaided, she was able to makeit almost a favour to the farmers' wives to take their girls. 

But to do Mrs. Walsham justice, this thought had less influence withher than that of the time and care which would be required by a childof that age in the house. Certainly, she thought, as she looked at her, sitting with her eyes wide open and an expression of grave wonder inher face, "she is a little darling, and as Jim saved her life I have aspecial interest in her; but this is out of the question. "

It was two or three minutes before she answered the showman's lastwords. 

"No, it cannot be done, Sergeant Wilks. No money that could be paid mewould make up to me for the charge of a child of her age. I am all dayin school, and what could a child, especially one accustomed to be outall day, do with herself? The worry and anxiety would be immense. Wereit not for my school, it would be different altogether. A child of thatage, especially such a sweet little thing as your granddaughter seemsto be, would be a pet and amusement; but as it is, I am sorry to saythat it is out of the question. But surely you will have no difficultyin finding plenty of good women who would be glad to take her, and towhom, having children of the same age, she would be no troublewhatever. "

"Yes, " the sergeant said slowly, "I was afraid you would say that, ma'm. Besides, though you are good enough not to say it, I know thatthere must be other objections. I know you must be surprised at mywanting her to be with a lady like yourself. So far as money goes, Icould afford to pay fifty pounds a year, and perhaps you might get agirl who could look after Aggie while you are busy. "

"Fifty pounds a year!" Mrs. Walsham said, greatly surprised. "That is alarge sum, a great deal too large a sum for you to pay for the care ofsuch a little child. For half that, there are scores of farmers' wiveswho would be happy to take her, and where she would be far more happyand comfortable than she would be with me. "

"I know I could get plenty to take her, " the soldier said, "but I havereasons, very particular reasons, why I wish to place her with a ladyfor two years. I cannot explain those reasons to you, but you mayimagine they must be strong ones, for me to be willing to pay fiftypounds a year for her. That money has been laid by from the day she wasborn, for that purpose. I have other reasons, of my own, for wishingthat she should be at Sidmouth rather than at any other place; and Ihave another reason, " and a slight smile stole across his face, "forpreferring that she should be with you rather than anyone else. Allthis must seem very strange to you, madam; but at the end of the twoyears, when you know what my reasons were, you will acknowledge thatthey were good ones. 

"God knows, " he went on, looking very grave, "what a wrench it will befor me to part with her. How lonely I shall be, as I tramp the countrywithout her pretty prattle to listen to; but I have got to do it sooneror later, and these two years, when I can see her sometimes, will be abreak, and accustom me to do without her sweet face. 

"Please, madam, " he urged, "do not give me a final answer today. Ishall not go till Monday, and will call again, if you will let me, thatmorning; and believe me, if I could tell you all, I could give youreasons which would, I think, induce you to change your mind. "

So saying, he made a military salute, took the child's hand in his, andwas soon striding along towards the sea. 

Mrs. Walsham was some time before she recovered from her surprise. Thiswas, indeed, a mysterious affair. The earnestness with which the oldsoldier pleaded his cause had moved her strongly, and had almostpersuaded her to accept the proposal, which had at first seemedpreposterous. Fifty pounds a year, too, was certainly a handsome sum. She could get a girl from the village for two or three shillings a weekto look after the child, and go out with her during school hours, and ahundred pounds would be a very handsome addition to the sum which shehad begun, little by little, to lay by for Jim's preparation for themedical profession. 

In the five years which would elapse, before it would be time for himto enter upon his studies for it, she could hardly hope to lay by morethan that sum, and this would at a stroke double it. Certainly it was atempting offer. She could not do justice to the child, could not giveher the care and attention which she ought to have, and which she couldhave for such a sum elsewhere; but the sergeant knew exactly how shewas placed, and if he was willing and anxious for her to assume thecharge of the child, why should she refuse this good offer?

However, her pupils were waiting for her in the next room, and with aneffort Mrs. Walsham put the matter aside, and went in to them. 

When James returned home to dinner, his mother related to him the wholeconversation. James was more amused than puzzled. 

"It seems a rum idea, mother; but I don't see why you shouldn't takeher. She is a sweet little thing, and will be a great amusement. Fiftypounds a year seems a tremendous sum for a man like that to pay; but Isuppose he knows his own business, and it will be a great pull for you. You will be able to have all sorts of comforts. I should like it verymuch. I have often wished I had had a little sister, and she can go outwalks with me, you know. It would be like having a big dog with one, only much jollier. "

"Yes, " his mother said smiling; "and I shouldn't be surprised if youwanted to throw sticks into the water for her to fetch them out, and tobe taking her out for a night's fishing, and be constantly bringing herhome splashed with that nasty red mud from head to foot. You would be anice playmate for a little girl, Jim. Perhaps it is that specialadvantage that the sergeant had in his mind's eye, when he was soanxious to put her with me. "

James laughed. 

"I would see that she didn't come to any harm, anyhow, you know; and, after all, I suppose it was my picking her out of the sea that hadsomething to do with his first thinking of putting her with you. "

"I suppose it had, Jim, " she said more seriously. "But what do youthink, my boy? You know there are disadvantages in it. There will be agood deal of talk about my taking this showman's grandchild, and someof the farmers' wives won't like it. "

"Then let them dislike it, " James said indignantly. "The child is asgood as their daughters, any day. Why, I noticed her in church lookinglike a little lady. There was not a child there to compare to her. "

"Yes, I have noticed her myself, " Mrs. Walsham said. "She is asingularly pretty and graceful child; but it will certainly causeremark. "

"Well, mother, you can easily say, what is really the fact, that younaturally felt an interest in her because I picked her out of thewater. Besides, if people make remarks they will soon be tired of that;and if not, I can get into some scrape or other and give them somethingelse to talk about. "

Accordingly, when Sergeant Wilks called on Monday morning for hisanswer, Mrs. Walsham told him that she had decided to accept his offer. 

"You are aware how I am placed, " she said, "and that I cannot give herthe care and time which I could wish, and which she ought to have forsuch a liberal payment as you propose; but you know that beforehand, and you see that for two years' payments I could not sacrifice myschool connection, which I should have to do if I gave her the time Ishould wish. "

"I understand, madam, " he said, "and I am grateful to you forconsenting to take her. She is getting too old now to wander about withme, and since the narrow escape she had, last time I was here, I havefelt anxious whenever she was out of my sight. It would not suit me toput her in a farm house. I want her to learn to speak nicely, and Ihave done my best to teach her; but if she went to a farm house shewould be picking up all sorts of country words, and I want her to talklike a little lady. 

"So that is settled, ma'm. I am going on to Exeter from here, and shallget her a stock of clothes there, and will bring her back nextSaturday. Will it suit you to take her then?"

Mrs. Walsham said that would suit very well; and an hour later thesergeant set out from Sidmouth with his box, Aggie trotting alongside, talking continuously. 

"But why am I to stop with that lady, grampa, and not to go about withyou any more? I sha'n't like it. I like going about, though I get sotired sometimes when you are showing the pictures; and I like beingwith you. It isn't 'cause I have been naughty, is it? 'Cause I fell outof the boat into the water? I won't never get into a boat again, and Ididn't mean to fall out, you know. "

"No, Aggie, it's not that, " the sergeant said. "You are always a goodgirl--at least, not always, because sometimes you get into passions, you know. Still, altogether you are a good little girl. Still, you see, you can't always be going about the country with me. "

"But why not, grampa?"

"Well, my dear, because great girls can't go about the country likemen. It wouldn't be right and proper they should. "

"Why shouldn't it be, grampa?" the child persisted. 

"Well, Aggie, I can't exactly explain to you why, but so it is. Men andboys have to work. They go about in ships, or as soldiers to fight fortheir country, just as I did. Girls and women have to stop at home, andkeep house, and nurse babies, and that sort of thing. God made man tobe hard and rough, and to work and go about. He made woman gentle andsoft, to stop at home and make things comfortable. "

Aggie meditated for some distance, in silence, upon this view of thecase. 

"But I have seen women working in the fields, grampa, and some of themdidn't seem very soft and gentle. "

"No, Aggie, things don't always go just as they ought to do; and yousee, when people are poor, and men can't earn enough wages, then theirwives and daughters have to help; and then, you see, they get rough, more like men, because they are not doing their proper work. But I wantyou to grow up soft and gentle, and so, for a time, I want you to livewith that lady with the nice boy who pulled you out of the water, andthey will make you very happy, and I shall come and see you sometime. "

"I like him, " the child said with a nod; "but I would rather be withyou, you know. "

"And the lady will teach you to read, Aggie. You have learned yourletters, you know. "

Aggie shook her head, to show that this part of the programme was notparticularly to her liking. 

"Do you think the boy will play with me, grampa?"

"I daresay he will, Aggie, when you are very good; and you must neverforget, you know, that he saved your life. Just think how unhappy Ishould be, if he had not got you out of the water. "

"The water was cold and nasty, " Aggie said, "and it seemed so warm andnice to my hands. Aggie won't go near the water any more. Of course, ifthe boy is with me I can go, because he won't let me tumble in. 

"Shall I get into the basket now, grampa? I is tired. "

"Oh, nonsense, little woman! you have not walked half a mile yet. Anyhow, you must trot along until you get to the top of this hill, thenyou shall have a lift for a bit. "

And so, with the child sometimes walking and sometimes riding, sometimes asleep in her basket and sometimes chatting merrily to hergrandfather, the pair made their way across the country towards Exeter. 

There was no little talk in Sidmouth when, on the following Sunday, theshowman's grandchild appeared in Mrs. Walsham's pew in church, and itbecame known that she had become an inmate of her house. It wasgenerally considered that Mrs. Walsham had let herself down greatly bytaking the showman's grandchild, and one or two of the mothers of herpupils talked about taking them away. One or two, indeed, called uponher to remonstrate personally, but they gained nothing by the step. 

"I do not understand what you mean, " she said quietly, "by saying thatthe child is not fit to associate with my other pupils. She issingularly gentle and taking in her manner. She expresses herselfbetter than any child of her own age in Sidmouth, so far as I know. There are few so neatly and prettily dressed. What is there to objectto? Her grandfather has been a sergeant in the army. He bears a goodcharacter, and is liked wherever he goes. I do not consider that Jamesor myself are, in any way, demeaned by sitting down to meals with thechild, who, indeed, behaves as prettily and nicely as one could wish;and I certainly do not see that any of my pupils can be injuriouslyaffected by the fact that, for an hour or two in the day, she learnsher lessons in the same room with them. Had I thought that they wouldbe, I should not have received her. I shall, of course, be sorry if anyof my pupils are taken away, but as I have several girls only waitingfor vacancies, it would make no difference to me pecuniarily. "

And so it happened that Mrs. Walsham lost none of her pupils, and in ashort time the wonder died out. Indeed, the child herself was sopretty, and taking in her ways, that it was impossible to make anyobjection to her personally. 

Mrs. Walsham had been struck by the self command which she showed atparting with her grandfather. Her eyes were full of tears, her lipquivered, and she could scarcely speak; but there was no loud wailing, no passionate outburst. Her grandfather had impressed upon her that theparting was for her own good, and child though she was, she felt howgreat a sacrifice he was making in parting with her, and although shecould not keep the tears from streaming down her cheeks, or silence hersobs as she bade him goodbye, she tried hard to suppress her grief. 

The pain of parting was, indeed, fully as great to Sergeant Wilks as tohis granddaughter; and it was with a very husky voice that he bade hergoodbye, and then, putting her into Mrs. Walsham's arms, walked hastilyaway. 

Aggie was soon at home. She and James very quickly became allies, andthe boy was ever ready to amuse her, often giving up his own plans totake her for a walk to pick flowers in the hedgerow, or to sail a tinyboat for her in the pools left as the sea retired. Mrs. Walsham found, to her surprise, that the child gave little trouble. She was quiet andpainstaking during the half hours in the morning and afternoon when shewas in the school room, while at mealtimes her prattle and talk amusedboth mother and son, and altogether she made the house brighter andhappier than it was before. 

In two months the sergeant came round again. He did not bring his boxwith him, having left it at his last halting place; telling James, whohappened to meet him as he came into Sidmouth, that he did not mean tobring his show there again. 

"It will be better for the child, " he explained. "She has done with thepeep show now, and I do not want her to be any longer associated withit. "

Aggie was delighted to see him, and sprang into his arms, with a screamof joy, as he entered. After a few minutes' talk, Mrs. Walshamsuggested that she should put on her hat and go for a walk with him, and, in high contentment, the child trotted off, holding hergrandfather's hand. Turning to the left, the sergeant took the path upthe hill, and when he reached the top, sat down on the short turf, withAggie nestling up against him. 

"So you are quite well and happy, Aggie?" he asked. 

"Quite well, grampa, and very happy; but I do wish so much that youwere here. Oh. It would be so nice to have you to go out with everyday!"

"I am afraid that cannot be managed, Aggie. I have been busy so longthat I could not settle down quietly here. Besides, I must live, youknow. "

"But wouldn't people give you money for the show if you lived here, grampa? You always got money here the same as other places. "

"Yes, my dear, but I could not get fresh pictures every day, and shouldsoon tire them by showing the old house. "

"But you are sorry sometimes, grampa, not to have me with you?"

"Yes, Aggie, very sorry. I miss you terribly sometimes, and I am alwaysthinking about you. "

"Then why don't you take me away again, grampa?"

"Because, as I told you, Aggie, I want you to learn to read, and togrow up quite a little lady. "

"Does reading make one a lady, grampa?"

"No, Aggie, not by itself, but with other things. "

"And when I am quite grown up and big, and know how to read nicely, shall I be able to go with you again?"

"We will see about that, Aggie, when the time comes. There is plenty oftime yet to think about that. "

"But I am getting on very fast, grampa, and the lady says I am a goodgirl. So it won't be such a very long time before I can leave. "

"It will be some time, yet. You have only got to read little words yet, but there are lots of long words which you will come to presently. ButMrs. Walsham tells me that you are getting on nicely, and that you area very good girl, which pleases me very much; and when I am walkingalong with my box, I shall like to be able to think of you as beingquite comfortable and happy. "

"And I go walks with Jim, grampa, and Jim has made me a boat, and hesays someday, when it is very fine and quiet, he will take me out in abig boat, like that boat, you know; and he is going to ask you if hemay, for the lady said I must not go out with him till he has askedyou. And he said he won't let me tumble over, and I am going to sitquite, quite still. "

"Yes, Aggie, I don't see any harm in your going out with him. I am surehe will only take you when it is fine, and he will look after you well. You like him, don't you?"

"Oh! I do, grampa; and you know, it was him who got me out of thewater, else I should never have come out, and never have seen grampaagain; and he has made me a boat. Oh! yes, I do like him!"

"That's right, my dear; always stick to those who are good to you. "

A few days after this, as James was sailing the toy boat, for Aggie'samusement, in a pool, a boy sauntered up. He was somewhat taller thanJames Walsham, and at least two years older. He was well dressed, andJames knew him as the nephew and heir of the squire. 

It was not often that Richard Horton came down into the village. He wasaccustomed to be treated with a good deal of deference at the Hall, andto order servants and grooms about pretty much as he chose, and theindifference with which the fisher boys regarded him offended himgreatly. He was a spoilt boy. His uncle had a resident tutor for him, but the selection had been a bad one. The library was large and good, the tutor fond of reading, and he was content to let the boy learn aslittle as he chose, providing that he did not trouble him. As to anyinstruction beyond books, he never thought of giving it. 

The squire never interfered. He was a silent and disappointed man. Heattended to his duties as a magistrate, and to the management of hisestate, but seldom went beyond the lodge gates. He took his meals byhimself, and often did not see his nephew for a week together, and hadno idea but that he was pursuing his studies regularly with his tutor. Thus, the character of Richard Horton formed itself unchecked. At thebest it was a bad one, but under other circumstances it might have beenimproved. 

Up to the age of ten, he had lived in London with his father andmother, the latter a sister of the squire, who, having married beneathher, to the indignation of Mr. Linthorne, he had never seen herafterwards. 

Four years before the story begins, she had received a letter from him, saying that, as her eldest son was now his heir, he wished him to comeand live with him, and be prepared to take his place. The Hortons, whohad a numerous family, at once accepted the offer, and Richard, hearingthat he was going to a grand house, and would no doubt have a pony andall sorts of nice things, left his father and mother without a tear. 

He was essentially selfish. He was vain of his good looks, which werecertainly striking; and with his changed fortunes he became arrogant, and, as the squire's servants said, hateful; and yet the change hadbrought him less pleasure than he expected. It was true that he had thepony, that he was not obliged to trouble himself with lessons, that hewas an important person at the "Hall;" but he had no playfellows, noone to admire his grandeur, and the days often passed heavily, andthere was a look of discontent and peevishness upon his handsome face. 

Perhaps the reason why he so seldom came down into Sidmouth, was notonly because the fisher boys were not sufficiently impressed with hisimportance, but because they looked so much happier and more contentedthan he felt, in spite of his numerous advantages. On this day he wasin a particularly bad temper. He had lamed his pony the day before, byriding it furiously over a bad road after it had cast a shoe. Thegardener had objected to his picking more than half a dozen peacheswhich had just come into perfection, and had threatened to appeal tothe squire. 

Altogether, he was out of sorts, and had walked down to the sea with avague hope that something might turn up to amuse him. He stood for somelittle time watching James sail the boat, and then strode down to theedge of the pool. The boat was a model of a smack, with brown sails. James had taken a good deal of pains with it, and it was an excellentmodel. 

Presently, in crossing, she stuck in a shallow some twelve feet fromthe edge. The intervening stretch of water was a foot deep. 

James picked up some small stones and threw them close to her, that thetiny wave they made might float her off. He tried several times withoutsuccess. 

"What's the use of such little stones as that?" Richard said roughly. "You will never get her off like that;" and picking up one as large ashis fist, he threw it with some force. 

It struck the mast, and broke it asunder, and knocked the boat on toher side. James Walsham uttered an angry exclamation. 

"You are a bad boy, " Aggie said passionately. "You are a bad boy tobreak my boat;" and she burst into tears. 

"I didn't mean to do it, you little fool!" Richard said angrily, vexedmore at his own clumsiness than at the damage it had caused. "What areyou making such a beastly noise about?" and he gave her a push. 

It was not a hard one, but the ground was slippery, and the child'sfoot slipped, and she fell at the edge of the pool, her dress goingpartly into the water. At the same instant, Richard reeled, and almostfell beside her, from a heavy blow between the eyes from James's fist. 

"You insolent blackguard!" he exclaimed furiously, "I will pay you forthis;" and he rushed at James. 

The combat was not a long one. Hard work at rowing and sailing hadstrengthened Jim Walsham's muscles, and more than balanced theadvantage in height and age of his adversary. He had had, too, morethan one fight in his time, and after the first sudden burst ofpassion, caused by the overthrow of Aggie, he fought coolly andsteadily, while Richard rained his blows wildly, without attempting toguard his face. 

The child, on regaining her feet, ran crying loudly towards the beach, making for two fishermen who were engaged in mending a net somedistance away; but before she could reach them to beg for aid for herchampion, the fight was over, terminating by a heavy right-handed hitfrom James, which landed Richard Horton on his back in the pool. 

James stood quietly awaiting a renewal of the conflict when he arose, but Richard had had enough of it. One of his eyes was already puffedand red, his nose bleeding, and his lip cut. His clothes were soakedfrom head to foot, and smeared with the red mud. 

"I will pay you out for this, you see if I don't, " Richard gaspedhoarsely. 

"What! have you had enough of it?" James said scornfully. "I thoughtyou weren't any good. A fellow who would bully a little girl is sure tobe a coward. "

Richard moved as if he would renew the fight, but he thought better ofit, and with a furious exclamation hurried away towards the Hall. 

James, without paying any further heed to him, waded after the boat, and having recovered it, walked off towards the child, who, on seeinghis opponent had moved off, was running down to meet him. 

"Here is the boat, Aggie, " he said. "There is no great harm done, onlythe mast and yard broken. I can easily put you in fresh ones;" but thechild paid no attention to the boat. 

"He is a wicked bad boy, Jim; and did he hurt you?"

"Oh, no, he didn't hurt me, Aggie, at least nothing to speak of. I hurthim a good deal more. I paid him out well for breaking your boat, andpushing you down, the cowardly brute!"

"Only look, Jim, " she said, holding out her frock. "What will she say?"

James laughed. 

"Mother won't say anything, " he said. "She is accustomed to my comingin all muddy. "

"But she said 'Keep your frock clean, ' and it's not clean, " Aggie saidin dismay. 

"Yes, but that is not your fault, little one. I will make it all rightwith her, don't you fret. Come on, we had better go home and change itas soon as possible. "

They passed close by the two fishermen on their way. 

"You gave it to the young squire finely, Master Walsham, " one of themsaid, "and served him right, too. We chanced to be looking at themoment, and saw it all. He is a bad un, he is, by what they say up atthe Hall. I heard one of the grooms talking last night down at the'Ship, ' and a nice character he gave him. This thrashing may do himsome good; and look you, Master Walsham, if he makes a complaint to thesquire, and it's likely enough he will get up a fine story of how itcame about--the groom said he could lie like King Pharaoh--you justsend word to me, and me and Bill will go up to the squire, and tell himthe truth of the matter. "

Mrs. Walsham felt somewhat alarmed when her son told her what hadhappened, for the squire was a great man at Sidmouth, a magistrate, andthe owner of the greater part of the place as well as of the landaround it; and although Mrs. Walsham did not hold the same exaggeratedopinion of his powers as did the majority of his neighbours, who wouldscarcely have dreamt of opposing it, had the squire ordered anyone tobe hung and quartered, still she felt that it was a somewhat terriblething that her son should have thrashed the nephew and heir of thegreat man. 

In the evening there was a knock at the door, and the little maid camein with eyes wide open with alarm, for she had heard of the afternoon'sbattle, to say that the constable wished to speak to Mrs. Walsham. 

"Servant, ma'am, " he said as he entered. "I am sorry to be here on anunpleasant business; but I have got to say as the squire wishes to seeMaster Walsham in the justice room at ten o'clock, on a charge of 'saltand battery. 

"Don't you be afeard ma'am, " he went on confidentially. "I don't thinkas anything is going to be done to him. I ain't got no warrant, and soI don't look upon it as regular business. I expects it will be just ablowing up. It will be just the squire, and not the magistrate, I takesit. He told me to have him up there at ten, but as he said nothingabout custody, I thought I would do it my own way and come to you quietlike; so if you say as Master Walsham shall be up there at ten o'clock, I'll just take your word for it and won't come to fetch him. The doctorwas allus very good to me and my missus, and I shouldn't like to bewalking through Sidmouth with my hand on his son's collar. "

"Thank you, Hobson, " Mrs. Walsham said quietly. "You can rely upon itmy son shall be there punctually. He has nothing to be afraid orashamed of. "

Full of rage as Richard Horton had been, as he started for home, hewould never have brought the matter before the squire on his ownaccount. His case was too weak, and he had been thrashed by a boyyounger than himself. Thus, he would have probably chosen some otherway of taking his vengeance; but it happened that, just as he arrivedhome, he met his tutor coming out. The latter was astounded atRichard's appearance. His eyes were already puffed so much that hecould scarcely see out of them, his lips were cut and swollen, hisshirt stained with blood, his clothes drenched and plastered with redmud. 

"Why, what on earth has happened, Richard?"

Richard had already determined upon his version of the story. 

"A brute of a boy knocked me down into the water, " he said, "and thenknocked me about till he almost killed me. "

"But what made him assault you in this outrageous manner?" his tutorasked. "Surely all the boys about here must know you by sight; and howone of them would dare to strike you I cannot conceive. "

"I know the fellow, " Richard said angrily. "He is the son of thatdoctor fellow who died two years ago. "

"But what made him do it?" the tutor repeated. 

"He was sailing his boat, and it got stuck, and he threw in some stonesto get it off; and I helped him, and I happened to hit the mast of hisbeastly boat, and then he flew at me like a tiger, and that's all. "

"Well, it seems to be a monstrous assault, Richard, and you must speakto the squire about it. "

"Oh, no, I sha'n't, " Richard said hastily. "I don't want any row aboutit, and I will pay him off some other way. I could lick him easy enoughif it had been a fair fight, only he knocked me down before I was on myguard. No, I sha'n't say anything about it. "

But Richard's tutor, on thinking the matter over, determined to speakto the squire. Only the evening before, Mr. Linthorne had surprised himby asking him several questions as to Richard's progress and conduct, and had said something about examining him himself, to see how he wasgetting on. This had caused Mr. Robertson no little alarm, for he knewthat even the most superficial questioning would betray the extent ofRichard's ignorance, and he had resolved that, henceforth, he wouldendeavour to assert his authority, and to insist upon Richard'sdevoting a certain portion of each day, regularly, to study. Should thesquire meet the boy anywhere about the house, he must at once noticethe condition of his face; and even if he did not meet him, he couldnot fail to notice it on Sunday, when he sat beside him in the pew. Itwould be better, therefore, that he should at once report the matter tohim. 

Without saying a word to Richard of his intentions, he therefore wentto the squire's study, and told him what had taken place, as he hadlearned it from Richard. The squire listened silently. 

"Very well, Mr. Robertson. You were quite right to tell me about it. Ofcourse, I cannot suffer my nephew to be treated in this manner. At thesame time, I am sorry that it was Walsham's son. I don't know anythingabout the boy, and should not know him even by sight, but I had anesteem for his father, who was a hard-working man, and, I believe, clever. He used to attend here whenever any of the servants were ill, and I had intended to do something for the boy. I am sorry he hasturned out so badly. However, I will have him up here and speak to him. This sort of thing cannot be permitted. "

And accordingly, orders were given to the constable. When, in theevening, Mr. Robertson informed Richard what he had done, the boy flewinto a terrible passion, and abused his tutor with a violence oflanguage which shocked and astonished him, and opened his eyes to hisown culpability, in allowing him to go on his way unchecked. He in vainendeavoured to silence the furious lad. He had been so long withoutexercising any authority, that he had now no authority to exercise, and, after an angry scene, Richard flung himself out of the room, andleft his tutor in a state bordering on consternation. 

Chapter 3: The Justice Room. 

Richard's feelings were not to be envied, as he lay awake that night, thinking over what had taken place in the morning. It had never, for amoment, entered his mind that his tutor would repeat his statement tothe squire, and he would have given a good deal if he had not made it. However, there was nothing for him now but to stick to the story, andhe felt but little doubt of the result. He had no idea that any, butthe actors in it, had witnessed the scene by the pool, and he feltconfident that his uncle would, as a matter of course, take his word inpreference to that of this boy, who would naturally tell lies to screenhimself. Of course, the child was there, but no one would mind what ababy like that said. Still, it was a nuisance, and he gnashed his teethwith rage at the interference of his tutor in the matter. 

"I will get rid of him, somehow, before long, " he said. "I will pay himout for his meddling, as sure as my name's Richard Horton. I will gethim out of this before three months are gone. "

The next morning at breakfast, Richard received a message from thesquire that he was to be present at ten o'clock in the justice room, and accordingly, at that hour he presented himself there with aconfident air, but with an inward feeling of misgiving. 

The squire was sitting at his table, with his clerk beside him. Mr. Robertson was in a chair a short distance off. The constable wasstanding by the side of James Walsham, at the other end of the room. Mr. Linthorne nodded to his nephew. 

"I wish you to repeat the story which you told Mr. Robertsonyesterday. "

Richard had thought over whether it would be better to soften hisstory, but as it had already been told to the squire, he had concludedthat there would be more danger in contradicting his first version thanin sticking to it. Accordingly, he repeated his story almost word forword as he had told it to Mr. Robertson. 

"What have you to say to this, James Walsham?" the squire asked. "Thisis a serious charge, that you without any provocation assaulted andmaltreated my nephew. "

"I say it is all a lie, sir, " James said fearlessly. 

The squire uttered a short exclamation of surprise and anger. He hadbeen, at first, favourably impressed with the appearance of the youngprisoner, though he had been surprised at seeing that he was youngerthan his nephew, for he had expected to see a much older boy. 

"That is not the way to speak, sir, " he said sternly, while theconstable pressed a warning hand on James's shoulder. 

"Well, sir, it's not true then, " the boy said. "It's all false frombeginning to end, except that I did strike him first; but I struck him, not because he had thrown a great stone and broken my boat, but becausehe pushed a little girl who was with me down into the water. "

"She slipped down. I never pushed her, " Richard broke in. 

"Hold your tongue, sir, " the squire said sternly. "You have given yourevidence. I have now to hear what the accused has to say. 

"Now, tell your story. "

James now gave his version of the affair. 

When he had ended, Mr. Linthorne said gravely, "Have you any witnessesto call?"

"Yes, sir, there are two fishermen outside who saw it. "

"Bring them in, " the magistrate said to the constable. 

Not a word was spoken in the justice room until the constable returned. As James had told his story, the magistrate had listened withdisbelief. It had not occurred to him that his nephew could have told alie, and he wondered at the calmness with which this boy told hisstory. Why, were it true, Richard was a coward as well as a liar, forwith his superior age and height, he should have been able to thrashthis boy in a fair fight; yet James's face had not a mark, while hisnephew's showed how severely he had been punished. 

But his eye fell upon Richard when James said that he had witnesses. Hesaw an unmistakable look of terror come over his face, and the bitterconviction flashed across him that James's story was the true one. 

"There is no occasion to give him the book, Hobson, " he said, as theconstable was about to hand the Testament to one of the fishermen. "This is a private investigation, not a formal magisterial sitting, andthere is no occasion, at this stage, to take any evidence on oath. "

"What is your name, my man?"

"John Mullens, your honour. "

"Well, just tell me, Mullens, what you know about this business. "

"I was a-mending my nets, yer honour, along with Simon Harte, and youngMaster Walsham was a-sailing his boat in a pool, along with the littlegal as lives at his mother's. "

"How far were you from the spot where he was?" the squire asked. 

"Two hundred yards or so, I should say, " the fisherman replied. "We wasworking behind a boat, but we could see over it well enough. Presentlywe saw Master Horton come down, and stand alongside the others. 

"I said to Simon, 'He is a good-looking young fellow, is the squire'snephew, '" and the fisherman's eye twinkled with a grim humour, as heglanced at Richard's swollen face. 

"The boat got stuck, and Master Walsham threw something in close to itto get it off. Then I see Master Horton stoop, and pick up a chunk ofstone, and chuck it hard; and it hit the boat and knocked it over. Isee the little girl turn round and say something to Master Horton, andthen she put her apron up to her face and began to cry. He gave her asort of shove, and she tumbled down into the edge of the pool. 

"I says to Simon, 'What a shame!' but afore the words was out of mymouth, Master Walsham he hits him, and hits him hard, too. Then therewas a fight, but Master Horton, he hadn't a chance with James, who gavehim as sound a licking as ever you see'd, and ending with knocking himbackwards into the pool. Then he gets up and shakes his fist at James, and then goes off as hard as he could. That's all I know about it. "

"It's a wicked lie, " Richard burst out. "They have made it up betweenthem. There was nobody there. "

"Hold your tongue, sir, I tell you, " the squire said, so sternly thatRichard, who had risen from his seat, shrank back again and remainedsilent; while Simon Harte gave his evidence, which was almost identicalwith that of the other fisherman. 

"Have you any other witnesses?" the magistrate asked James. 

"Only the little girl, sir, but I did not bring her up. She is solittle, I thought it was better she should not come, but I can send forher if you wish it. "

"It is not necessary, " Mr. Linthorne said. "I have heard quitesufficient. The manner in which you and these fishermen have given yourevidence convinces me that you are speaking the truth, and I am sorrythat you should have been placed in this position. You will understandthat this is not a formal court, and therefore that there is noquestion of discharging you. I can only say that, having heard thestory of what took place at this fight between you and my nephew, I amconvinced that you did what any other boy of spirit would have done, under the same circumstances, and that the punishment which youadministered to him was thoroughly deserved. 

"Good morning!"

James Walsham and his witnesses left the room. Mr. Linthorne rose, andsaying to his nephew, "Follow me, sir, " went to his study. 

Without saying a word as to what had passed, he took down some booksfrom the shelves, and proceeded to examine Richard in them. A fewminutes sufficed to show that the boy was almost absolutely ignorant ofLatin, while a few questions in geography and history showed that hewas equally deficient in these also. 

"That will do, " the squire said. "Go up to your room, and remain thereuntil I send for you. "

An hour after this a dog cart came round to the door. Mr. Robertsontook his place in it with his trunk, and was driven away to Exeter, never to return. 

For two days Richard remained a prisoner in his room. His meals werebrought up to him, but the servant who came with them answered noquestions, telling him that the squire's orders were that he was not tohold any conversation with him. There was, indeed, a deep pleasureamong the servants at the Hall, at the knowledge that Richard Hortonwas in disgrace. The exact circumstances of the affair were unknown, for the fishermen had not been present when Richard had told his story, and Mrs. Walsham, who was much shocked when James told her thecircumstances, had impressed upon him that it was better to say nothingmore about it. 

"You are clear in the matter, Jim, and that is enough for you. Thesquire will, no doubt, punish his nephew for the wicked lies he hastold. Some day, you know, the boy will be master here. Don't let us seteveryone against him by telling this disgraceful story. "

So, beyond the fact that there had been a fight between James Walshamand the squire's nephew, and that Richard Horton had been thrashed, andthat the squire himself had said that it served him right, Sidmouthknew nothing of what had taken place in the justice room. 

Mr. Linthorne's first impulse had been to send his nephew at once backto his parents, with the message that he would have nothing more to dowith him; but, though he had the reputation of being a stern man, thesquire was a very kind-hearted one. He was shocked to find that the boywas a liar, and that, to shield himself, he had invented this falsehoodagainst his opponent; but upon reflection, he acknowledged that hehimself had been to blame in the matter. He had taken the boy into hishouse, had assigned to him the position of his heir, and had paid nofurther attention to him. 

Unfortunately, the man he had selected as his tutor had proved false tothe trust. The boy had been permitted to run wild, his head was turnedwith the change in his prospects, his faults had grown unchecked. Itwas to be said for him that he had not intended, in the first place, tobring his opponent into disgrace by making this false accusationagainst him, for his tutor had acknowledged that he had said he did notintend to tell him, or to take any step in the matter, and his positionof accuser had been, to some extent, forced upon him by the necessityof his confirming the tale, which he had told to account for his beingthrashed by a boy smaller than himself. 

Yes, it would be unfair upon the boy utterly to cast him off for thisfirst offence. He would give him one more trial. 

The result of the squire's reflection was that, on the third day of hisimprisonment, Richard was sent for to the study. The squire did notmotion to him to sit down, and he remained standing with, as the squiresaid to himself, a hang-dog look upon his face. 

"I have been thinking over this matter quietly, Richard, for I did notwish to come to any hasty conclusion. My first impulse was to pack youoff home, and have no more to do with you, but I have thought better ofit. Mean and despicable as your conduct has been, I take some blame tomyself, for not having seen that your tutor did his duty by you. Therefore, I have resolved to give you another chance, but not here. Icould not bear to have a boy, who has proved himself a despicable liar, about me; but I will try and think that this was a first offence, andthat the lesson which it has taught you may influence all your futurelife, and that you may yet grow up an honourable man. 

"But you will remember that, henceforth, you are on trial, and that theposition in which you will stand by my will, will depend solely andentirely on your own conduct. If you prove, by that, that this lessonhas had its effect, that you deeply repent of your conduct, and areresolved to do your best to be henceforth straight, honourable, andtrue, you will, at my death, occupy the position I have intended foryou. If not, not one single penny of my money will you get. I am goingto put you in a school where you will be looked strictly after, andwhere you will have every chance of retrieving yourself. I have justwritten to a friend of mine, a post captain in his majesty's service, asking him to receive you as a midshipman. I have told him frankly thatyou have been somewhat over indulged, and that the discipline of thesea life will be of great benefit to you, and have requested him tokeep a tight hand over you, and let me know occasionally how you aregoing on. I have told him that your position as my heir will, to a verylarge extent, depend upon his reports, and have asked him, in the nameof our old friendship, to be perfectly frank and open in them with me. I have said 'he is my eldest nephew, but I have others who will takehis place, if he is unworthy of the position, and although I should besorry if he should be found wanting, I will commit the interests of allthe tenants and people on my estate to no one who is not, in everyrespect, an honourable gentleman. '

"That will do, sir. You need not remain longer in your room, but youwill not leave the grounds. My friend's ship is at Portsmouth atpresent, and doubtless I shall receive an answer in the course of a fewdays. Until then, the less we see each other, the more pleasant for usboth. "

There were few more miserable boys in England than Richard Horton, during the week which elapsed before the answer to the squire's letterwas received. It cannot be said that, in the true sense of the word, hewas sorry for his fault. He was furious with himself, not because hehad lied, but because of the consequences of the lie. A thousand timeshe called himself a fool for having imperilled his position, and riskedbeing sent back again to the dingy house in London, merely to excusehimself for being thrashed by a boy smaller than himself. Mad with hisfolly, not in having invented the story, but in having neglected tolook round, to assure himself that there were no witnesses who wouldcontradict it, he wandered disconsolate about the gardens and park, cursing what he called his fortune. 

It was an additional sting to his humiliation, that he knew everyservant in and about the house rejoiced at his discomfiture, and heimagined that there was a veiled smile of satisfaction, at his bruisedvisage and his notorious disgrace with the squire, on the face of everyman he met outside, and of every woman who passed him in the house. 

During the whole week he did not venture near the stables, for there heknew that he had rendered himself specially obnoxious, and there wasnothing for him to do but to saunter listlessly about the garden, untilthe day arrived that the letter came granting the squire's request, andbegging that he might be sent off at once, as the vessel would probablyput to sea in a few days. 

"Now, Richard, " the squire said that evening to him, in a kinder voicethan he had used on the last occasion, "you understand exactly how westand towards each other. That being so, I do not wish to maintain ourpresent uncomfortable relations. You have had your punishment, and, unless I hear to the contrary, I shall assume that the punishment hashad its effect. When you return from sea, after your first voyage, youwill come home here as if nothing had happened, and this business neednever be alluded to between us. If you turn out as I have hithertobelieved you to be, I shall receive you as warmly as if my opinion ofyou had never been shaken. 

"I have requested Captain Sinclair to let me know what is the averageallowance that the midshipmen receive from their parents, and shall seethat you have as much as your messmates. I have also asked him tokindly allow one of his officers to order you a proper outfit in allrespects, and to have the bill sent in to me. So now, my boy, you willhave a fresh and a fair start, and I trust that you will turn outeverything that I can wish. "

"I will try, sir. I will indeed, " Richard said earnestly; and he spokefrom his heart, for the inheritance was very dear to him, and it wouldbe a terrible thing indeed to forfeit it. 

For two years after Richard Horton's departure, things went on quietlyat Sidmouth. James Walsham continued to make a pet and a playmate oflittle Aggie. Her out-of-door life had made her strong and sturdy, andshe was able to accompany him in all his rambles, while, when he was atwork at home preparing fishing lines, making boats, or otherwiseamusing himself, she was content to sit hours quietly beside him, chattering incessantly, and quite content with an occasional briefanswer to the questions. When he was studying, she too would work ather lessons; and however much she might be puzzled over these, shewould never disturb him by asking him questions when so engaged. 

She was an intelligent child, and the hour's lesson, morning andafternoon, soon grew into two. She was eager to learn, and rapidlygained ground on Mrs. Walsham's older pupils. During the two years, that lady never had cause to regret that she had yielded to thesergeant's entreaties. Aggie was no trouble in the house, which shebrightened with her childish laughter and merry talk; and hercompanionship, James's mother could not but think, did the boy muchgood. It softened his manner, and, although he still often went outwith the fishermen, he was no longer thrown entirely for companionshipupon the boys on the beach. 

The sergeant came and went, seldom being more than two months withoutpaying a visit to Sidmouth. The child was always delighted to see hergrandfather, and James took to him greatly, and liked nothing betterthan to stroll up with him to a sheltered spot on the hillside, wherehe would throw himself down on the grass, while the sergeant smoked hispipe and told him stories of his travels and adventures, and Aggie ranabout looking for wildflowers, or occasionally sat down, for a while, to listen also. 

The squire lived his usual lonely life up at the Hall. The absence ofhis nephew, whose ship had sailed for a foreign station, was a reliefrather than otherwise to him. It had, from the first, been a painfuleffort to him to regard this boy as his heir, and he had only done itwhen heartsick from a long and fruitless search for one who would havebeen nearer and dearer to him. Nor had he ever taken to the ladpersonally. The squire felt that there was not the ring of true metalin him. The careless way in which he spoke of his parents showed a wantof heart; and although his uncle was ignorant how much the boy madehimself disliked in the household, he was conscious, himself, of acertain antipathy for him, which led him to see as little of him aspossible. 

The two years, for which the sergeant had placed his grandchild withMrs. Walsham, came to an end. That he did not intend to continue thearrangement, she judged from something he said on the occasion of hislast visit, two months before the time was up, but he gave no hint asto what he intended to do with her. 

In those weeks Mrs. Walsham frequently thought the matter over. Thatthe sergeant had plans for the child she could hardly doubt. The childherself had told her that she knew of no other relations than hergrandfather, and yet he could hardly intend to take her about with him, after placing her for two years in a comfortable home. She was butseven years old now--far too young to go out into a place as servantgirl in a farm house. She doubted not that the sergeant had expendedthe whole of his savings, and she thought him foolish in not havingkept her with him for some little time longer, or, if he could not dothat, he might have placed her with some honest people, who would havekept her for the sum he had paid until she was old enough to take aplace as a nurse girl. 

And yet, while she argued thus, Mrs. Walsham felt that the old showmanhad not acted without weighing the whole matter. There must besomething in it which she did not understand. In fact, he had said sowhen he placed the child with her. 

As the time approached, she became more worried at the thought of Aggieleaving her. The little one had wound herself very closely round herheart. The expense of keeping her was small indeed, the cost of herfood next to nothing; while the extra girl, whom Mrs. Walsham had takenon when she first came, had been retained but a very short time, James's constant companionship with her rendering the keeping of anurse altogether unnecessary. 

At last she made up her mind that she would offer to keep her onwithout pay. She and James would miss her companionship sorely, and itcould not be considered an extravagance, since the money she hadreceived for her would pay for the cost of her keep for years to come. When Mrs. Walsham's mind was once made up, her only fear was that thesemysterious plans of the sergeant would not allow him to leave Aggiewith her. 

Punctual to the day, Sergeant Wilks arrived, and after a little talk inthe parlour, as usual, with James and Aggie present, he formallyrequested the favour of a conversation with Mrs. Walsham alone. 

"Take Aggie for a walk, James. Do not stay out above three quarters ofan hour, as your tea will be ready for you then. "

"You must have wondered, ma'am, a good deal, " the sergeant began whenthey were alone, "why I, who get my living by travelling the countrywith a peep show, wished to place my grandchild in a position aboveher, and to have her taught to be a little lady. It is time now that Ishould tell you. Aggie is my granddaughter, but she is thegranddaughter, too, of Squire Linthorne up at the Hall. "

"Bless me!" Mrs. Walsham ejaculated, too astonished for any furtherexpression of her feelings. 

"Yes, ma'am, she is the daughter of the squire's son Herbert, whomarried my daughter Cissie. "

"Dear me, dear me, " Mrs. Walsham said, "what an extraordinary thing! Ofcourse I remember Herbert Linthorne, a handsome, pleasant young fellow. He was on bad terms, as everyone heard, eight years ago, with hisfather, because he married somebody beneath--I mean somebody of whomthe squire did not approve. A year afterwards, we heard that he wasdead, and there was a report that his wife was dead, too, but that wasonly a rumour. The squire went away just at the time, and did not comeback for months afterwards, and after that he was altogether changed. Before, he had been one of the most popular men in this part of thecountry, but now he shut himself up, gave up all his acquaintances, andnever went outside the park gates except to come down to church. Iremember it gave us quite a shock when we saw him for the firsttime--he seemed to have grown an old man all at once. Everyone saidthat the death of his son had broken his heart. 

"And Aggie is his granddaughter! Well, well, you have astonished me. But why did you not tell me before?"

"There were a good many reasons, ma'am. I thought, in the first place, you might refuse me, if you knew, for it might do you harm. The squireis a vindictive man, and he is landlord of your house; and if he cameto know that you had knowingly taken in his granddaughter, there was nosaying how he might have viewed it. Then, if you had known it, youmight have thought you ought to keep her in, and not let her run aboutthe country with your son; and altogether, it would not have been socomfortable for you or her. I chose to put her at Sidmouth because Iwanted to come here often, to hear how the squire was going on; for ifhe had been taken ill I should have told him sooner than I intended. "

"But why did you not tell him before?" Mrs. Walsham asked. 

"Just selfishness, ma'am. I could not bring myself to run the risk ofhaving to give her up. She was mine as much as his, and was a hundredtimes more to me than she could be to him. I took her a baby from herdead mother's arms. I fed her and nursed her, taught her her firstwords and her first prayer. Why should I offer to give her up to himwho, likely enough, would not accept the offer when it was made to him?But I always intended to make it some day. It was my duty to give herthe chance at least; but I kept on putting off the day, till thatSaturday when she was so nearly drowned; then I saw my duty before me. "

"I had, from the first, put aside a hundred pounds, to give her more ofan education than I could do; but if it hadn't been for that fall intothe sea, it might have been years before I carried out my plan. Then Isaw it could not go on any longer. She was getting too old and too boldto sit quiet while I was showing my box. She had had a narrow escape, and who could say what might happen the next time she got intomischief? Then I bethought me that the squire was growing old, and thatit was better not to put it off too long. So, ma'am, I came to you andmade up my mind to put her with you. "

"And you had your way, " Mrs. Walsham said, smiling, "though it was withsome difficulty. "

"I expected it would be difficult, ma'am; but I made up my mind tothat, and had you kept on refusing I should, as a last chance, havetold you whose child she was. "

"But why me?" Mrs. Walsham asked. "Why were you so particularly anxiousthat she should come to me, of all people?"

The sergeant smiled. 

"It's difficult to tell you, ma'am, but I had a reason. "

"But what was it?" Mrs. Walsham persisted. 

The sergeant hesitated. 

"You may think me an old fool, ma'am, but I will tell you what fancycame into my mind. Your son saved Aggie's life. He was twelve yearsold, she was five, seven years' difference. "

"Why, what nonsense, sergeant!" Mrs. Walsham broke in with a laugh. "You don't mean to say that fancy entered your head!"

"It did, ma'am, " Sergeant Wilks said gravely. "I liked the look of theboy much. He was brave and modest, and a gentleman. I spoke about himto the fishermen that night, and everyone had a good word for him; so Isaid to myself, 'I can't reward him for what he has done directly, butit may be that I can indirectly. '

"Aggie is only a child, but she has a loving, faithful little heart, and I said to myself, 'If I throw her with this boy, who, she knows, has saved her life, for two years, she is sure to have a strongaffection for him. '

"Many things may happen afterwards. If the squire takes her they willbe separated. He may get to care for someone, and so may she, but it'sjust giving him a chance. 

"Then, too, I thought a little about myself. I liked to fancy that, even though she would have to go from me to the squire, my little planmay yet turn out, and it would be I, not he, who had arranged for thefuture happiness of my little darling. I shouldn't have told you allthis, ma'am; but you would have it. "

"I am glad you brought her to me, Sergeant Wilks, anyhow, " Mrs. Walshamsaid, "for I love her dearly, and she has been a great pleasure to me;but what you are talking about is simply nonsense. My son is a goodboy, and will, I hope, grow up an honourable gentleman like his father;but he cannot look so high as the granddaughter of Squire Linthorne. "

"More unequal marriages have been made than that, ma'am, " the sergeantsaid sturdily; "but we won't say more about it. I have thought it overand over, many a hundred times, as I wheeled my box across the hills, and it don't seem to me impossible. I will agree that the squire wouldnever say yes; but the squire may be in his grave years before Aggiecomes to think about marriage. Besides, it is more than likely that hewill have nothing to say to my pet. If his pride made him cast his sonoff, rather than acknowledge my daughter as his, it will keep him fromacknowledging her daughter as his grandchild. I hope it will, with allmy heart; I hope so. "

"In that case, Sergeant Wilks, " Mrs. Walsham said, "let this be herhome for the time. Before you told me your story, I had made up my mindto ask you to let her remain with me. You need feel under noobligation, for the money you have paid me is amply sufficient to payfor the expenses of what she eats for years. It will be a real pleasurefor me to keep her, for she has become a part of the house, and weshould miss her sorely, indeed. She is quick and intelligent, and Iwill teach her all I know, and can train her up to take a situation asa governess in a gentleman's family, or perhaps--" and she laughed, "your little romance might come true some day, and she can in that casestop in this home until James makes her another. "

"You are very kind, ma'am, " the sergeant said. "Truly kind indeed; andI humbly accept your offer, except that so long as I live she shall beno expense to you. I earn more than enough for my wants, and can, atany rate, do something towards preventing her from being altogether aburden on your hands. And now, ma'am, how would you recommend me to goto work with the vindictive old man up at the Hall?"

"I shouldn't have thought he was vindictive. That is not at all thecharacter he bears. "

"No, " the sergeant said, "I hear him spoken well of; but I have seen, in other cases, men, who have had the name of being pleasant andgenerous, were yet tyrants and brutes in their own family. I judge himas I found him--a hard hearted, tyrannical, vindictive father. I thinkI had better not see him myself. We have never met. I have never seteyes on him save here in church; but he regarded me as responsible forthe folly of his son. He wrote me a violent letter, and said I hadinveigled the lad into the marriage; and although I might have told himit was false, I did not answer his letter, for the mischief was donethen, and I hoped he would cool down in time. 

"However, that is all past now; but I don't wish to see him. I wasthinking of letting the child go to the Hall by herself, and drop insuddenly upon him. She is very like her father, and may possibly takehis heart by storm. "

"Yes, " Mrs. Walsham assented. "Now I know who she is, I can see thelikeness strongly. Yes; I should think that that would be the best way. People often yield to a sudden impulse, who will resist if approachedformally or from a distance. But have you any reason to suppose that hewill not receive her? Did he refuse at first to undertake the charge ofthe child? Does he even know that she is alive? It may be that, allthese years, he has been anxious to have her with him, and that youhave been doing him injustice altogether. "

"I never thought of it in that light, " the sergeant said, after apause. "He never came near his son when he lay dying, never wrote aline in answer to his letters. If a man could not forgive his son whenhe lay dying, how could he care for a grandchild he had never seen?"

"That may be so, Sergeant Wilks; but his son's death certainly brokehim down terribly, and it may be that he will gladly receive hisgranddaughter. 

"But there are the young ones back again. I will think over what youhave been telling me, and we can discuss it again tomorrow. "

Chapter 4: The Squire's Granddaughter. 

The following day another council was held, and Mrs. Walsham told thesergeant that, on thinking it over, she had concluded that the best waywould be to take the old butler at the Hall, who had served the familyfor forty-five years, into their confidence, and to ask him to arrangehow best Aggie might be introduced to the squire. 

"I have been thinking over what you said, ma'am, and it may be that youare right, and that I have partly misjudged the squire. I hope so, forAggie's sake, and yet I cannot help feeling sorry. I have always feltalmost sure he would have nothing to say to her, and I have clung tothe hope that I should not lose my little girl. I know, of course, howmuch better it will be for her, and have done all I could to make herso that she should be fit for it, if he took her. But it will be awrench, ma'am. I can't help feeling it will be a wrench;" and the oldsoldier's voice quivered as he spoke. 

"It cannot be otherwise, sergeant, " Mrs. Walsham said kindly. "You havebeen everything to each other, and though, for her good and happiness, you are ready to give her up, it is a heavy sacrifice for you to make. "

That afternoon, the sergeant went for a long walk alone with Aggie, andwhen they returned Mrs. Walsham saw, by the flushed cheeks and theswollen eyes of the child, that she had been crying. James noticed italso, and saw that she seemed depressed and quiet. He supposed that hergrandfather had been telling her that he was going to take her away, for hitherto nothing had been said, in her hearing, as to theapproaching termination of the stay with his mother. 

As they came out of church, Mrs. Walsham had waited for a moment at thedoor, and had told the butler at the Hall that she wished particularlyto speak to him, that afternoon, if he could manage to come down. Theywere not strangers, for the doctor had attended John's wife in her lastillness, and he had sometimes called with messages from the Hall, whenthe doctor was wanted there. 

John Petersham was astonished, indeed, when Mrs. Walsham informed himthat the little girl he had seen in her pew, in church, was hismaster's granddaughter. 

"You don't say so, ma'am. You don't say as that pretty little thing isMaster Herbert's child! But why didn't you say so afore? Why, I havecaught myself looking at her, and wondering how it was that I seemed toknow her face so well; and now, of course, I sees it. She is thepicture of Master Herbert when he was little. "

"I couldn't say so before, John, because I only knew it myself lastnight. Her grandfather--that is, her other grandfather, youknow--placed her with me to educate, and, as he said, to make a littlelady of, two years ago; but it was only last night he told me. "

"Only to think of it!" the butler ejaculated. "What will the squiresay?"

"Yes, that is the point, John. What will the squire say? Hergrandfather thinks he will have nothing to say to her. "

"Nothing to say to her, ma'am! Why, he will be off his head with joy. Didn't he search for her, and advertise for her, and do all he could tofind her for months? It wasn't till he tried for over a year that hegave it up, and sent for Richard Horton to come to him. "

"Her grandfather can only judge by what he knows, John. He tells methat the son wrote to his father, over and over again, on his deathbed, and that he never came near him, or took any notice of the letters. "

"That's true enough, ma'am, " the butler said sadly; "and it is what haspretty nigh broken the squire's heart. He was obstinate like at first, and he took me with him when he travelled about across the sea amongthe foreigners, and when he was at a place they called Athens, he got afever and he was down for weeks. We came home by sea, and the winds wasfoul, and we made a long voyage of it, and when we got home there wasletters that had been lying months and months for us, and among themwas those letters of Master Herbert's. 

"The squire wasn't an hour in the house afore the carriage was round tothe door, and we posted as hard as horses could take us right acrossEngland to Broadstairs, never stopping a minute except to changehorses; and when we got there it was a month too late, and there wasnothing to do but to go to the churchyard, and to see the stone underwhich Master Herbert and his young wife was laid. 

"The house where they had died was shut up. There had been a sale, andthe man who was the father of Master Herbert's wife was gone, and welearned there had been a baby born, and that had gone too. The squirewas like a madman, blaming himself for his son's death, and a-raving tothink what must Master Herbert have thought of him, when he neveranswered his letters. I had a terrible time with him, and then he setto work to find the child; but, as I told you, we never did find it, orhear a word of it from that time to this, and the squire has never heldup his head. He will be pretty well out of his mind with joy. "

"I am very glad to hear what you say, John, " Mrs. Walsham said. "Icould hardly fancy the squire, who always has borne such a name forkindness, being so hard that he would not listen to his dying son'sentreaties. "

"No, ma'am. The squire was hard for a bit. Master Herbert's marriagewas a sad disappointment to him. He had made up his mind he was goingto do so well, and to cut such a figure in the world; but he would havecome round. Lord bless you, he only meant to hold out for a bit. Whenhe was ill at Athens, he was talking all the time about forgiving hisson, and I could see how hard it had been to him to keep separated fromhim. On the voyage home he fidgeted ever so at the delay, and I knewthat the first thing he did, when he got back, would be to write toMaster Herbert and tell him to bring his wife down to the Hall. There'snot a hard corner in the squire's heart. 

"I thank the good God for the news you have told me, ma'am; it's thebest I ever heard in all my life. "

Mrs. Walsham now told him how the child had been brought up, and thenthe sergeant himself, who was waiting in the next room, was brought in;and to him John Petersham related the story of the squire's illness, the reason of the letters not reaching him for months after they hadbeen written, and his intense sorrow and self reproach at havingarrived too late, and told him of the efforts that had been made tofind the child. The sergeant listened in grave silence. 

"I am glad it is so, " he said, after a pause. "I have misjudged thesquire, and I am glad of it. It will be a blow to me to lose the child. I do not pretend that it won't; but it is for her good, and I must becontent. He can hardly object to my seeing her sometimes, and if I knowthat she is well and happy, that is all I care for; and now the soonerit's over the better. Can she come up this evening?"

"Surely she can, " John Petersham said. "The squire dines at five. Ifyou will bring her up at six, I will take her in to him. "

And so it was arranged, and in his walk with Aggie, afterwards, thesergeant told her the history of her parents, and that Squire Linthornewas her other grandfather, and that she was to go up and see him thatevening. 

Aggie had uttered her protest against fate. She did not wish to leaveher grampa who had been so good to her, and Mrs. Walsham, and James. The description of the big house and its grandeurs, and the pleasuresof a pony for herself, offered no enticement to her; and, weeping, sheflung her arms round her grandfather's neck and implored him not togive her up. 

"I must, my dear. It is my duty. I wish to God that it were not. Youknow how I love you, Aggie, and how hard it is for me to part with you;but it is for your good, my darling. You mayn't see it now, but whenyou get older you will know it. It will not be so hard now on me, dear, nor on you, as it would have been had I given you up two years ago; butwe have learned to do a little without each other. "

"But you will come and see me, just as you have here, won't you?" Aggiesaid, still weeping. 

"I hope so, my dear. You see, the squire is your father's father, whileI am only your mother's father, and somehow the law makes him nearer toyou than I am, and he will have the right to say what you must do. "

"I won't stay with him. I won't, " Aggie said passionately, "if he won'tlet you come. "

"You must not say that, dear, " the sergeant said. "We must all do ourduty, even when that duty is hard to do, and your duty will be to obeythe squire's orders, and to do as he tells you. I have no doubt he willbe very kind, and that you will be very happy with him, and I hope hewill let you see me sometimes. "

It was a long time before the child was at all reconciled. When hersobs began to cease, her grandfather told her what she was to do whenshe saw the squire. 

"You will remember, my dear, that I have been more fortunate than hehas. I have had you all these years, and he has had no one to love orcare for him. You must remember that he was not to blame, because heobjected to his son marrying my daughter. They were not in the sameposition of life, and it was only natural that he should not like it, at first; and, as I told you, he was coming home to make them bothhappy, when he found it was too late. 

"You must think, dear, that while I have been happy all these yearswith you, he has been sorrowing and grieving, and you must try and lovehim, and make up to him for what he has suffered. I know you will notforget your old friends. You will love me whether you see me often ornot; and Mrs. Walsham, who has been very kind to you; and James, youknow, who saved your life. "

"I shall never forget anyone, grampa. I shall always love you betterthan anyone, " the child exclaimed, throwing her arms round his neckwith a fresh burst of tears. 

"There, there, my pet, " the sergeant said soothingly. "You must not cryany more. I want you to look your best this evening, you know, and todo credit to us all. And now, I think we have settled everything, so wewill be going back to tea. "

That evening, the squire was sitting by himself in the great diningroom, occasionally sipping the glass of port, which John Petersham hadpoured out before he left the room. The curtains were drawn, and thecandles lighted; for it was late in September, and the evenings wereclosing in fast; and the squire was puzzling over John Petersham'sbehaviour at dinner. 

Although the squire was not apt to observe closely what was passingaround him, he had been struck with the old butler's demeanour. Thatsomething was wrong with him was clear. Usually he was the most quietand methodical of servants, but he had blundered several times in theservice. He had handed his master dishes when his plate was alreadysupplied. He had spilled the wine in pouring it out. He had startednervously when spoken to. Mr. Linthorne even thought that he had seentears in his eyes. Altogether, he was strangely unlike himself. 

Mr. Linthorne had asked him if anything was the matter, but John had, with almost unnecessary earnestness, declared there was nothing. Altogether, the squire was puzzled. With any other servant, he wouldhave thought he had been drinking, but such a supposition, in John'scase, was altogether out of the question. 

He could have had no bad news, so far as the squire knew, for the onlychildren he had, had died young, and he had no near relatives orconnections. It was ridiculous to suppose that John, at his age, hadfallen in love. Altogether, the squire failed to suggest to himself anyexplanation of his old butler's conduct, and had just concluded, philosophically, by the reflection that he supposed he should know whatit was sooner or later, when the door of the room quietly opened. 

The squire did not look up. It closed again as quietly, and then heglanced towards it. He could hardly believe his eyes. A child wasstanding there--a girl with soft smooth hair, and large eyes, and asensitive mouth, with an expression fearless but appealing. Her handswere clasped before her, and she was standing in doubt whether toadvance. There was something so strange, in this apparition in thelonely room, that the squire did not speak for a moment. It flashedacross him, vaguely, that there was something familiar to him in theface and expression, something which sent a thrill through him; and atthe same instant, without knowing why, he felt that there was aconnection between the appearance of the child, and the matter he hadjust been thinking of--John Petersham's strange conduct. He was stilllooking at her, when she advanced quietly towards him. 

"Grandpapa, " she said, "I am Aggie Linthorne. "

A low cry of astonishment broke from the squire. He pushed his chairback. 

"Can it be true?" he muttered. "Or am I dreaming?"

"Yes, grandpapa, " the child said, close beside him now. "I am AggieLinthorne, and I have come to see you. If you don't think it's me, grampa said I was to give you this, and then you would know;" and sheheld out a miniature, on ivory, of a boy some fourteen years old; and awatch and chain. 

"I do not need them, " the squire said, in low tones. "I see it in yourface. You are Herbert's child, whom I looked for so long. 

"Oh! my child! my child! have you come at last?" and he drew hertowards him, and kissed her passionately, while the tears streamed downhis cheeks. 

"I couldn't come before, you know, " the child said, "because I didn'tknow about you; and grampa, that's my other grandpapa, " she noddedconfidentially, "did not know you wanted me. But now he knows, he sentme to you. He told me I was to come because you were lonely. 

"But you can't be more lonely than he is, " she said, with a quiver inher voice. "Oh! he will be lonely, now!"

"But where do you come from, my dear? and how did you get here? andwhat have you been doing, all these years?"

"Grampa brought me here, " the child said. "I call him grampa, you know, because I did when I was little, and I have always kept to it; but Iknow, of course, it ought to be grandpapa. He brought me here, andJohn--at least he called him John--brought me in. And I have beenliving, for two years, with Mrs. Walsham down in the town, and I usedto see you in church, but I did not know that you were my grandpapa. "

The squire, who was holding her close to him while she spoke, got upand rang the bell; and John opened the door, with a quickness thatshowed that he had been waiting close to it, anxiously waiting asummons. 

"John Petersham, " the squire said, "give me your hand. This is thehappiest day of my life. "

The two men wrung each other's hands. They had been friends ever sinceJohn Petersham, who was twelve years the senior of the two, first cameto the house, a young fellow of eighteen, to assist his father, who hadheld the same post before him. 

"God be thanked, squire!" he said huskily. 

"God be thanked, indeed, John!" the squire rejoined, reverently. "Sothis was the reason, old friend, why your hand shook as you poured outmy wine. How could you keep the secret from me?"

"I did not know how to begin to tell you, but I was pretty nigh lettingit out, and only the thought that it was better the little lady shouldtell you herself, as we had agreed, kept it in. Only to think, squire, after all these years! But I never quite gave her up. I always thought, somehow, as she would come just like this. "

"Did you, John? I gave up hope years ago. How did it come about, John?"

"Mrs. Walsham told me, as I came out of church today, as she wanted tospeak to me. So I went down, and she told me all about it, and then Isaw him--" John hesitated at the name, for he knew that, perhaps, theonly man in the world against whom his master cherished a bitterresentment, was the father of his son's wife. "It seems he never sawyour advertisements, never knew as you wanted to hear anything of thechild, so he took her away and kept her. He has been here, off and on, all these years. I heard tell of him, often and often, when I had beendown into Sidmouth, but never dreamt as it was him. He went about thecountry with a box on wheels with glasses--a peep show as they callsit. "

The squire winced. 

"He is well spoken of, squire, " John said, "and I am bound to say as hedoesn't seem the sort of man we took him for, at all, not by no means. He did not know you wanted to have her, but he thought it his duty togive her the chance, and so he put her with Mrs. Walsham, and nevertold her, till yesterday, who she was. Mrs. Walsham was quite grievedat parting with her, for she says she is wonderfully quick at herlessons, and has been like a daughter with her, for the last twoyears. "

The child had sat quietly down in a chair, and was looking into thefire while the two men were speaking. She had done what she was told todo, and was waiting quietly for what was to come next. Her quick ear, however, caught, in the tones of John Petersham, an apologetic tonewhen speaking of her grandfather, and she was moved to instant anger. 

"Why do you speak like that of my grampa?" she said, rising to herfeet, and standing indignantly before him. "He is the best man in theworld, and the kindest and the nicest, and if you don't like him, I cango away to him again. I don't want to stay here, not one minute. 

"You may be my grandpapa, " she went on, turning to the squire, "and youmay be lonely, but he is lonely, too, and you have got a great house, and all sorts of nice things; and you can do better without me than hecan, for he has got nothing to love but me, poor grampa!"

And her eyes filled with sudden tears, as she thought of him trampingon his lonely walks over the hills. 

"We do not mean to speak unkindly of your grandfather, my dear, " thesquire said gently. "I have never seen him, you know, and John hasnever seen him but once. I have thought, all these years, bitterly ofhim; but perhaps I have been mistaken. He has ever been kind and goodto you, and, above all, he has given you back to me, and that will makeme think differently of him, in future. We all make mistakes, you know, and I have made terrible mistakes, and have been terribly punished forthem. I daresay I have made a mistake here; but whether or no, youshall never hear a word, from me, against the man who has been so kindto you. "

"And you will let me see him sometimes, grandpapa?" the child said, taking his hand pleadingly. "He said, if you said no, I must do as youtold me; because somehow you are nearer to me than he is, though Idon't know how that can be. But you won't say that, will you? For, oh!I know he is so lonely without me, and I should never be happy, thinking of him all alone, not if you were to be ever so kind to me, and to give me all sorts of grand things. "

"No, my dear, I certainly shall not say so. You shall see him as oftenas you like. "

"Oh, thank you, grandpapa!" she exclaimed joyfully, and she held up herface to kiss him. 

The squire lifted her in his arms, and held her closely to him. 

"John, " he said, "you must tell Mrs. Morcombe to get a room ready formy granddaughter, at once, and you had better bring the tea in here, and then we will think of other things. I feel quite bewildered, atpresent. "

When John returned with the tea, Aggie was sitting on the squire'sknee. She was perfectly at home, now, and had been chattering to him ofher life with her grandfather, and had just related the incident of hernarrow escape from drowning. 

"Do you hear that, John?" the squire said. "She was nearly drownedhere, within sight of our home, and I might never have known anythingabout it. It seems that lad of Dr. Walsham's saved her life. He is afine lad. He was her champion, you know, in that affair with my nephew. How strange that the two boys should have quarrelled over mygranddaughter!"

"Yes, squire, and young Walsham came well out of it!" John saidheartily; for to him, only, did the squire mention the circumstances ofthe case, and he chuckled now to himself, as he thought that RichardHorton had made an even greater mistake in that matter than he thoughtof, for John detested the boy with all his heart, and had onlyabstained from reporting his conduct, to the squire, from fear ofgiving his master pain. 

The squire's brow clouded a little at the allusion. 

"It will make a difference to him, John, " he said, "for, of course, nowmy granddaughter will take his place. "

"And a good thing, too!" John said heartily. "I have never said a wordbefore, squire, because, as you had chosen him as your heir, there wasno use in setting you against him; but a more hatefuller lad thanRichard Horton I never comed across, and so said everyone here. You didnot see much of him, squire, and natural thought well of him, for hewas a good-looking boy, and could speak fair enough when he liked. Ithought well of him, myself, when he first came, but I larned better, afterwards. "

"There are many excuses to be made for him, John, " the squire said, "and I have had good reports of him, since. Of course, I shall seethat, although he can no longer be regarded as my heir here, he shallbe well provided for. But there will be plenty of time to think ofthis. "

"Mr. Wilks asked me to say, sir, " the butler said as he prepared toleave them, "that he shall be staying in Sidmouth tomorrow, and that, if you wish to see him, he will come up here. "

"Certainly I wish to see him, " the squire replied. "I have many thingsto ask him. Let the boy go down, the first thing in the morning, or--no, if you don't mind, John, would you go down yourself tonight? Hewill naturally be anxious to know how his grandchild is getting on. Tell him with what joy I have received her, and take any message shemay give you. 

"Is there anything you would like to say to your grandfather, child?"

"Oh, yes. Please tell him that I think I shall like it, and that he isto come and see me when he likes, and that, of course, he is to see mewhen he comes in the morning, and then I can tell him all about it. "

"And say, I shall be glad to see him the first thing after breakfast, "the squire added. 

The housekeeper soon entered, and Aggie, very sleepy after theexcitements of the day, was taken off to bed. Her sleepiness, however, disappeared in her wonder at the size of the house, and at the vastnessof her bedroom. 

"Why, you have got a fire!" she exclaimed in astonishment. "I never sawa fire in a bedroom, before. "

"I didn't light it for the cold, miss, " the housekeeper said; "butbecause it is a long time since the room was slept in before, andbecause I thought it would be cheerful for you. I shall sleep in thenext room, till things are settled, so that, if you want anything, youwill only have to run in. "

"Thank you, " Aggie said gratefully. "It does all seem so big; but I amsure not to want anything. Thank you. "

"Here is your box, miss. Would you like me to help undress you?"

"Oh, no!" Aggie laughed. "Why, of course I can undress myself;" and shelaughed at the idea of assistance being required in such a matter. 

"Then, good night!" the housekeeper said. "I shall leave the door ajar, between the two rooms, when I come to bed. "

The next morning, soon after breakfast, Sergeant Wilks was ushered intothe study, where the squire was expecting him. The two men had had hardthoughts of each other, for many years. The squire regarded thesergeant as a man who had inveigled his son into marrying his daughter, while the sergeant regarded the squire as a heartless and unnaturalfather, who had left his son to die alone among strangers. Theconversation with John Petersham had taught the sergeant that he hadwronged the squire, by his estimate of him, and that he was to bepitied rather than blamed in the matter. The squire, on his part, wasgrateful to the sergeant for the care he had bestowed upon the child, and for restoring her to him, and was inclined, indeed, at the moment, to a universal goodwill to all men. 

The sergeant was pale, but self possessed and quiet; while the squire, moved, by the events of the night before, out of the silent reserve inwhich he had, for years, enveloped himself, was agitated and nervous. He was the first to speak. 

"Mr. Wilks, " he said. "I have to give you my heartfelt thanks, forhaving restored my granddaughter to me--the more so as I know, fromwhat she has said, how great a sacrifice you must be making. John hasbeen telling me of his conversation with you, and you have learned, from him, that I was not so wholly heartless and unnatural a father asyou must have thought me; deeply as I blame myself, and shall alwaysblame myself, in the matter. "

"Yes, " the sergeant said. "I have learned that I have misread you. Hadit not been so, I should have brought the child to you long ago--shouldnever have taken her away, indeed. Perhaps we have both misjudged eachother. "

"I fear that we have, " the squire said, remembering the letters hewrote to his son, in his anger, denouncing the sergeant in violentlanguage. 

"It does not matter, now, " the sergeant went on quietly; "but, as I donot wish Aggie ever to come to think ill of me, in the future, it isbetter to set it right. 

"When I left the army, I had saved enough money to furnish a house, andI took one at Southampton, and set up taking lodgers there. I had mypension, and lived well until my wife died--a year before your son camedown, from London, with another gentleman, and took my rooms. Mydaughter was seventeen when her mother died, and she took to managingthe house. I was careful of her, and gave her orders that, on noaccount, was she ever to go into the lodgers' rooms. I waited on them, myself. 

"How your son first saw her, and got to speak to her, I don't know; butI am not surprised that, when he did, he loved her, for there was noprettier or sweeter girl in Hampshire. They took the rooms, first, onlyfor a fortnight, then the other gentleman went away, and your sonstayed on. 

"One day--it came upon me like a thunderbolt--your son told me hewanted to marry my Agnes. I was angry, at first. Angry, because it hadbeen done behind my back, and because I had been deceived. I said asmuch; but your son assured me that he had never spoken to her in thehouse, but had met her when she went out for her walks. Still, it waswrong, and I told him so, and I told her so, though, in my heart, I didnot altogether blame them; for young people will be young people, and, as he had acted honourably in coming to me at once, I let that pass. 

"But, squire, though but a sergeant in His Majesty's service, I had mypride as you had yours, and I told him, at once, that I would not givemy consent to my daughter's marrying him, until you had given yours;and that he must leave the house at once, and not see Agnes again, until he came with your written consent to show me. 

"He went away at once. After a time, he began to write to me, urging meto change my decision; and from this, although he never said so, I wassure that you had refused to sanction his marriage. However, I stuck towhat I had said, though it was hard for me to do so, with my childgrowing thin and pale before my eyes, with all her bright happinessgone. 

"So it went on, for three months, and then one morning she was gone, and I found a letter on her table for me, saying that she had beenmarried to him a week before, when she went out, as I thought, to spendthe day with a friend. She begged and prayed me to forgive her, andsaid how miserable she had been, and that she could not say no to herlover's pleadings. 

"I wrote to the address she had given me, saying that she had well nighbroken my heart. She knew that I had only refused my consent because itwould have seemed a dishonourable action, to allow your son to marryher without your consent. She knew how hard it had been for me to do myduty, when I saw her pining before my eyes, but I forgave her wholly, and did not altogether blame her, seeing that it was the way of Naturethat young women, when they once took to loving, should put theirfather altogether in the second place;

"It was hard to me to write that letter, for I longed to see her bonnyface again. But I thought it was my duty. I thought so then; but Ithink, now, it was pride. 

"From time to time she wrote to me. I learned that you still refused tosee your son, and I gathered, though she did not say much of this, thatthings were going badly with them. At last, she wrote that her husbandwas ill--very ill, she feared. He had, in vain, tried to getemployment. I don't think he was naturally strong, and the anxiety hadbroken him down. Then I went up to London at once, and found them, in alittle room, without the necessaries of life. I brought them down home, and nursed him for three months, till he died. 

"A week later, Aggie was born. Ten days afterwards, I laid her motherby the side of her father. No answer had come to the letters he hadwritten to you, while he had been ill, though in the later ones he hadtold you that he was dying. So, I looked upon the child as mine. 

"Things had gone badly with me. I had been able to take no lodgers, while they were with me. I had got into debt, and even could I havecleared myself, I could not well have kept the house on, without awoman to look after it. I was restless, too, and longed to be movingabout. So I sold off the furniture, paid my debts, and laid by themoney that remained, for the child's use in the future. 

"I had, some time before, met an old comrade travelling the countrywith a show. I happened to meet him again, just as I was leaving, andhe told me the name of a man, in London, who sold such things. I leftthe child, for a year, with some people I knew, a few miles out ofSouthampton; came up to London, bought a show, and started. It waslonely work, at first; but, after a year, I fetched the child away, andtook her round the country with me, and for four years had a happy timeof it. 

"I had chosen this part of the country, and, after a time, I becameuneasy in my mind, as to whether I was doing right; and whether, forthe child's sake, I ought not to tell you that she was alive, and offerto give her up, if you were willing to take her. I heard how your son'sdeath had changed you, and thought that, maybe, you would like to takehis daughter; but, before bringing her to you, I thought she shouldhave a better education than I had time to give her, and that sheshould be placed with a lady, so that, if you took her, you need not beashamed of her manners. 

"I hoped you would not take her. I wanted to keep her for myself; butmy duty to her was clear. 

"And now, squire, you know all about it. I have been wrong to keep herso long from you, I grant; but I can only say that I have done my duty, as far as I could, and that, though I have made many mistakes, myconscience is clear, that I did the best, as far as it seemed to me atthe time. "

Chapter 5: A Quiet Time. 

As the sergeant was telling the story, the squire had sat with his faceshaded by his hand, but more than one tear had dropped heavily on thetable. 

"I wish I could say as much, " he said sadly, when the other ended. "Iwish that I could say that my conscience is clear, Mr. Wilks. I havemisjudged you cruelly, and that without a tithe of the reason, whichyou had, for thinking me utterly heartless and cruel. You will haveheard that I never got those letters my son wrote me, after he was ill, and that, when I returned home and received them, I posted toSouthampton, only to find that I was too late; and that, for a year, Idid all in my power to find the child. Still, all this is no excuse. Irefused to forgive him, returned his letters unanswered, and left him, as it seemed, to his fate. 

"It is no excuse to say that I had made up my mind to forgive him, whenhe was, as I thought, sufficiently punished. He did not know that. Asto the poverty in which you found him, I can only plead that I did notdream that he would come to that. He had, I knew, some money, for I hadjust sent him his half-year's allowance before he wrote to me aboutthis business. Then there was the furniture of his rooms in London, hishorses, jewels, and other matters. I had thought he could go on verywell for a year. 

"Of course, I was mistaken. Herbert was always careless about money, and, no doubt, he spent it freely after he was first married. He wouldnaturally wish to have everything pretty and nice for his young wife, and, no doubt, he counted upon my forgiving him long before the moneywas spent. 

"I am not excusing myself. God knows how bitterly I have condemnedmyself, all these years. I only want to show you that I had no idea ofcondemning him to starvation. He was my only son, and I loved him. Ifelt, perhaps, his rebellion all the more, because he had never beforegiven me a day's trouble. I was harsh, obstinate, and cruel. 

"I have only the one old excuse. I never thought it would turn out asit did. What would I give, if I could say, as you can, that you have aclear conscience, and that you acted always as it seemed to be yourduty!

"And now, Mr. Wilks, now that I have heard your story, I trust that youwill forgive my past suspicions of you, and let me say how much Ihonour and esteem you for your conduct. No words can tell you how Ithank you, for your goodness and kindness to my little granddaughter;our little granddaughter, I should say. You have the better right, athousand-fold, to her than I have; and, had I been in your place, Icould never have made such a sacrifice. 

"We must be friends, sir, great friends. Our past has been saddened bythe same blow. All our hopes, in the future, are centred on the sameobject. "

The two men rose to their feet together, and their hands met in a firmclasp, and tears stood in both their eyes. 

Then the squire put his hand on the other's shoulder, and said, "Wewill talk again, presently. Let us go into the next room. The littleone is longing to see you, and we must not keep her. "

For the next hour, the two men devoted themselves to the child. Nowthat she had her old friend with her, she felt no further misgivings, and was able to enter into the full delight of her new home. 

The house and its wonders were explored, and, much as she was delightedwith these, the gardens and park were an even greater excitement andpleasure. Dancing, chattering, asking questions of one or the other, she was half wild with pleasure, and the squire was no less delighted. A new light and joy had come into his life, and with it the ten years, which sorrow and regret had laid upon him, had fallen off; for, although his habits of seclusion and quiet had caused him to beregarded as quite an old man by his neighbours, he was still threeyears short of sixty, while the sergeant was two years younger. 

It was a happy morning for them, all three; and when John Petershamwent in, after lunch, to the kitchen, he assured his fellow servantsthat it was as much as he could do to keep from crying with joy, at thesight of the squire's happy face, and to hear him laugh and joke, as hehad not done for eight years now. 

The sergeant had stopped to that meal, for he saw, by the manner inwhich the squire asked him, that he should give pain if he refused; andthere was a simple dignity about the old soldier, which would haveprevented his appearing out of place at the table of the highest in theland. 

"Now, pussy, " the squire said, when they had finished, "you must amuseyourself for a bit. You can go in the garden again, or sit with Mrs. Morcombe in her room. She will look you out some picture books from thelibrary. I am afraid there is nothing very suited to your reading, butwe will soon put all that right. Your grandfather and I want to haveanother quiet chat together. "

"Now I want your advice, " he said when they were both comfortablyseated in the study. "You see, you have been thinking and planningabout the child for years, while it has all come new upon me, so I mustrely upon you entirely. Of course, the child must have a governess, that is the first thing; not so much for the sake of teaching her, though, of course, she must be taught, but as a companion for her. "

"Yes, " the sergeant assented, "she must have a governess. "

"It will be a troublesome matter to find one to suit, " the squire saidthoughtfully. "I don't want a harsh sort of Gorgon, to repress herspirits and bother her life out with rules and regulations; and I won'thave a giddy young thing, because I should like to have the child withme at breakfast and lunch, and I don't want a fly-away young woman whowill expect all sorts of attention. Now, what is your idea? I have nodoubt you have, pictured in your mind, the exact sort of woman youwould like to have over her. "

"I have, " the sergeant answered quietly. "I don't know whether it wouldsuit you, squire, or whether it could be managed; but it does seem, tome, that you have got the very woman close at hand. Aggie has been fortwo years with Mrs. Walsham, who is a lady in every way. She is veryfond of the child, and the child is very fond of her. Everyone says sheis an excellent teacher. She would be the very woman to take charge ofher. "

"The very thing!" the squire exclaimed, with great satisfaction. "Butshe has a school, " he went on, his face falling a little, "and there isa son. "

"I have thought of that, " the sergeant said. "The school enables themto live, but it cannot do much more, so that I should think she wouldfeel no reluctance at giving that up. "

"Money would be no object, " the squire said. "I am a wealthy man, Mr. Wilks, and have been laying by the best part of my income for the lasteight years. I would pay any salary she chose, for the comfort of suchan arrangement would be immense, to say nothing of the advantage andpleasure it would be to the child. But how about the boy?"

"We both owe a good deal to the boy, squire, " the sergeant saidgravely, "for if it had not been for him, the child would have beenlost to us. "

"So she was telling me last night, " the squire said. "And he reallysaved her life?"

"He did, " the sergeant replied. "But for his pluck and promptitude shemust have been drowned. A moment's hesitation on his part, and nothingcould have saved her. "

"I made up my mind last night, " the squire said, "to do something forhim. I have seen him before, and was much struck with him. "

"Then, in that case, squire, I think the thing could be managed. If thelad were sent to a good school, his mother might undertake themanagement of Aggie. She could either go home of an evening, or sleephere and shut up her house, as you might arrange with her; living, ofcourse, at home, when the boy was home for his holidays, and onlycoming up for a portion of the day. "

"That would be a capital plan, " the squire agreed warmly. "The verything. I should get off all the bother with strange women, and thechild would have a lady she is already fond of, and who, I have nodoubt, is thoroughly qualified for the work. Nothing could be better. Iwill walk down this afternoon and see her myself, and I have no doubt Ishall be able to arrange it. 

"And now about yourself--what are your plans?"

"I shall start tomorrow morning on my tramp, as usual, " the sergeantanswered quietly; "but I shall take care, in future, that I do not comewith my box within thirty miles or so of Sidmouth. I do not wantAggie's future to be, in any way, associated with a showman's box. Ishall come here, sometimes, to see her, as you have kindly said I may, but I will not abuse the privilege by coming too often. Perhaps youwon't think a day, once every three months, to be too much?"

"I should think it altogether wrong and monstrous!" the squireexclaimed hotly. "You have been virtually the child's father, for thelast seven years. You have cared for her, and loved her, and worked forher. She is everything to you, and I feel how vast are your claims toher, compared to mine; and now you talk about going away, and coming tosee her once every three months. The idea is unnatural. It is downrightmonstrous!

"No, you and I understand each other at last; would to Heaven we haddone so eight years back! I feel how much more nobly you acted in thatunhappy matter than I did, and I esteem and honour you. We are bothgetting on in life, we have one common love and interest, we stand inthe same relation to the child, and I say, emphatically, that you havea right, and more than a right, to a half share in her. You must goaway no more, but remain here as my friend, and as joint guardian ofthe child. 

"I will have no refusal, man, " he went on, as the sergeant shook hishead. "Your presence here will be almost as great a comfort, to me, asto the child. I am a lonely man. For years, I have cut myself loosefrom the world. I have neither associates nor friends. But now thatthis great load is off my mind, my first want is a friend; and whocould be so great a friend, who could enter into my plans and hopes forthe future so well, as yourself, who would have an interest in themequal to my own?"

The sergeant was much moved by the squire's earnestness. He saw thatthe latter had really at heart the proposal he made. 

"You are very good, squire, " he said in a low voice; "but even if Icould bring myself to eat another man's bread, as long as I can workfor my own, it would not do. I am neither by birth nor education fittedfor such a position as that you offer to me. "

"Pooh, nonsense!" the squire said hotly. "You have seen the world. Youhave travelled and mixed with men. You are fit to associate as an equalwith anyone. Don't you deceive yourself; you certainly do not deceiveme. 

"It is pride that stands in your way. For that you are going to riskthe happiness of your granddaughter, to say nothing of mine; for youdon't suppose that either of us is going to feel comfortable and happy, when the snow is whirling round, and the wind sweeping the moors, tothink of you trudging along about the country, while we are sittingsnugly here by a warm fire. 

"You are wanting to spoil everything, now that it has all come right atlast, by just the same obstinate pride which wrecked the lives of ourchildren. I won't have it, man. I won't hear of it. 

"Come, say no more. I want a friend badly, and I am sure we shall suiteach other. I want a companion. Why, man, if I were a rich old lady, and you were a poor old lady, and I asked you to come as my companion, you would see nothing derogatory in the offer. You shall come as mycompanion, now, or if you like as joint guardian to the child. Youshall have your own rooms in the house; and when you feel inclined tobe grumpy, and don't care to take your meals with the child and me, youcan take them apart. 

"At any rate, try it for a month, and if you are not comfortable then Iwill let you go, though your rooms shall always be in readiness foryou, whenever you are disposed to come back. 

"Come, give me your hand on the bargain. "

Sergeant Wilks could resist no longer. The last two years work, withoutthe child, had indeed been heavy, and especially in winter, when thewind blew strong across the uplands, he began to feel that he was nolonger as strong as he used to be. The prospect of having Aggie alwaysnear him was, however, a far greater temptation than that of ending hisdays in quiet and comfort. 

His hand and that of the squire met in a cordial grip, and the matterwas settled. Fortunately, as the sergeant reflected, he had still hispension of ten shillings a week, which would suffice to supply clothesand other little necessaries which he might require, and would thussave him from being altogether dependent on the squire. 

Aggie was wild with delight, when she was called in and informed of thearrangement. The thought of her grandfather tramping the country, alone, had been the one drawback to the pleasure of her life at Mrs. Walsham's, and many a time she had cried herself to sleep, as shepictured to herself his loneliness. That he was to be with her always, was to give up his work to settle down in comfort, was indeed a delightto her. 

Greatly pleased was she, also, to hear that Mrs. Walsham was to beasked to come up to be her governess. 

"Oh, it will be nice!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Just likethe fairy stories you used to tell me, grampa, when everyone was madehappy at the end by the good fairy. Grandpapa is the good fairy, andyou and I are the prince and princess; and James--and what is to bedone with James? Is he to come up, too?"

"No, my dear, " the squire said, smiling. "James is to go to a goodschool, but you will see him when he comes home for his holidays. Butthat part of it is not arranged yet, you know; but if you will put onyour hat, you can walk down with us to the town, and introduce me toMrs. Walsham. "

Mrs. Walsham had just dismissed her pupils, when the party arrived, andwas thinking how quiet and dull the house was without Aggie, when thedoor opened, and the child rushed in and threw her arms round her neck. 

"Oh, I have such good news to tell you! Grandpapa is so good and kind, and grampa is going to live with us, and you are to come up, too, andJames is to go to school. Isn't it all splendid?"

"What are you talking about, Aggie?" Mrs. Walsham asked, bewildered, asthe child poured out her news. 

"Aggie is too fast, madam, " the squire said, entering the roomaccompanied by the sergeant. "She is taking it all for granted, whileit has yet to be arranged. I must apologize for coming in withoutknocking; but the child opened the door and rushed in, and the bestthing to do was, we thought, to follow her. 

"I have come, in the first place, to thank you for your great kindnessto my little granddaughter, and to tell your son how deeply I feelindebted to him, for having saved her life two years ago. 

"Now, Aggie, you run away and look for your friend, while I talkmatters over with Mrs. Walsham. "

Aggie scampered away to find James, who was at work at his books, andto tell him the news, while the squire unfolded his plans to Mrs. Walsham. 

His offers were so handsome that Mrs. Walsham accepted them, without aninstant's hesitation. She was to have the entire charge of the childduring the day, with the option of either returning home in theevening, when Aggie went in to dessert after dinner, or of livingentirely at the Hall. The squire explained his intention of sendingJames to a good school at Exeter, as an instalment of the debt he owedhim for saving the child's life, and he pointed out that, when he wasat home for his holidays, Aggie could have her holidays, too, and Mrs. Walsham need only come up to the Hall when she felt inclined. 

Mrs. Walsham was delighted with the offer, even more for James's sakethan her own, although the prospect for herself was most pleasant. Tohave only Aggie to teach, and walk with, would be delightful after themonotony of drilling successive batches of girls, often inordinatelytiresome and stupid. She said, at once, that she should preferreturning home at night--a decision which pleased the squire, for hehad wondered what he should do with her in the evening. 

The arrangement was at once carried into effect. The school was brokenup, and, as the parents of the children were almost all tenants of thesquire, they offered no objection to the girls being suddenly left ontheir hands, when they heard that their teacher was going to live asgoverness at the Hall. Indeed, the surprise of Sidmouth and theneighbourhood, at learning that the little girl at Mrs. Walsham's wasthe squire's granddaughter, and that the showman was therefore aconnection of the squire, and was going also to live at the Hall, wasso great, that there was no room for any other emotion. Save forwrecks, or the arrival of shoals of fish off the coast, or of troublesbetween the smugglers and the revenue officers, Sidmouth had fewexcitements, and the present news afforded food for endless talk andconjecture. 

On comparing notes, it appeared that there was not a woman in the placewho had not been, all along, convinced that the little girl at Mrs. Walsham's was something more than she seemed to be, and that theshowman was a man quite out of the ordinary way. And when, on thefollowing Sunday, the sergeant, who had in the meantime been to Exeter, walked quietly into church with the squire, all agreed that thewell-dressed military-looking man was a gentleman, and that he had onlybeen masquerading under the name of Sergeant Wilks until, somehow orother, the quarrel between him and the squire was arranged, and thelittle heiress restored to her position; and Sidmouth remained in thatbelief to the end. 

The sergeant's military title was henceforth dropped. Mr. Linthorneintroduced him to his acquaintances--who soon began to flock in, whenit was known that the squire's granddaughter had come home, and that hewas willing to see his friends and join in society again--as "My friendMr. Wilks, the father of my poor boy's wife. "

And the impression made was generally favourable. 

None had ever known the exact story of Herbert's marriage. It wasgenerally supposed that he had married beneath him; but the opinion nowwas that this must have been a mistake, for there was nothing in anyway vulgar about the quiet, military-looking gentleman, with whom thesquire was evidently on terms of warm friendship. 

The only person somewhat dissatisfied with the arrangement was JamesWalsham. He loved his mother so much, that he had never offered theslightest dissent to her plan, that he should follow in his father'sfootsteps. She was so much set on the matter, that he could never bringhimself to utter a word in opposition. At heart, however, he longed fora more stirring and more adventurous life, such as that of a soldier orsailor, and he had all along cherished a secret hope, that somethingmight occur to prevent his preparing for the medical profession, and soenable him to carry out his secret wishes. But the present arrangementseemed to put an end to all such hopes, and, although grateful to thesquire for sending him to a good school, he wished, with all his heart, that he had chosen some other way of manifesting his gratitude. 

Four years passed quietly. James Walsham worked hard when at school, and, during his holidays, spent his time for the most part on board thefishermen's boats. Sometimes he went up to the Hall, generally at theinvitation of Mr. Wilks. 

"Why don't you come oftener, Jim?" the latter asked him one day. "Aggiewas saying, only yesterday, that you used to be such friends with her, and now you hardly ever come near her. The squire is as pleased as I amto see you. "

"I don't know, " Jim replied. "You see, I am always comfortable withyou. I can chat with you, and tell you about school, and about fishing, and so on. The squire is very kind, but I know it is only because ofthat picking Aggie out of the water, and I never seem to know what totalk about with him. And then, you see, Aggie is growing a young lady, and can't go rambling about at my heels as she used to do, when she wasa little girl. I like her, you know, Mr. Wilks, just as I used to do;but I can't carry her on my shoulder now, and make a playfellow ofher. "

"I suppose that's all natural enough, Jim, " Aggie's grandfather said;"but I do think it is a pity you don't come up more often. You know weare all fond of you, and it will give us a pleasure to have you here. "

Jim was, in fact, getting to the awkward age with boys. When younger, they tyrannize over their little sisters, when older they may againtake pleasure in girls' society; but there is an age, in every boy'slife, when he is inclined to think girls a nuisance, as creaturesincapable of joining in games, and as being apt to get in the way. 

Still, Jim was very fond of his former playmate, and had she been stillliving down in Sidmouth with his mother, they would have been as greatfriends as ever. 

At the end of the fourth year, Richard Horton came back, after anabsence of five years. He was now nearly twenty, and had just passed aslieutenant. He was bronzed with the Eastern sun, and had grown from agood-looking boy into a handsome young man, and was perfectly consciousof his good looks. Among his comrades, he had gained the nickname of"The Dandy"--a name which he accepted in good part, although it had notbeen intended as complimentary, for Richard Horton was by no means apopular member of his mess. 

Boys are quick to detect each other's failings, and several sharpthrashings, when he first joined, had taught Richard that it was veryinexpedient to tell a lie on board a ship, if there was any chance ofits being detected. As he had become one of the senior midshipmen, hisnatural haughtiness made him disliked by the younger lads; while, amongthose of his own standing, he had not one sincere friend, for there wasa general feeling, among them, that although Richard Horton was apleasant companion, and a very agreeable fellow when he liked, he wasnot somehow straight, not the sort of fellow to be depended upon in allemergencies. 

By the captain and lieutenants, he was considered a smart youngofficer. He was always careful to do his duty, quiet, and gentlemanlyin manner, and in point of appearance, and dress, a credit to the ship. Accordingly, all the reports that his captain had sent home of him hadbeen favourable. 

Great as was the rage and disappointment which Richard had felt, whenhe received the letter from his uncle telling him of the discovery ofhis long-lost granddaughter, he had the tact to prevent any signs ofhis feelings being visible, in the letter in which he replied. Thesquire had told him that, although the discovery would, of course, makea considerable difference in his prospects, he should still, if thereports of his conduct continued satisfactory, feel it his duty to makea handsome provision for him. 

"Thanks to my quiet life during the last ten years, " the squire hadwritten, "I have plenty for both of you. The estate will, of course, goto her; but, always supposing that your conduct will be satisfactory, Ishall continue, during my lifetime, the allowance you at presentreceive, and you will find yourself set down, in my will, for the sumof twenty thousand pounds. "

Richard had replied in terms which delighted the squire. 

"You see, the boy has a good heart, " he said, as he handed the letterto Mr. Wilks. "No one could express himself better. "

His companion read the letter over in silence. 

"Charmingly expressed, " he said as he returned it. "Almost toocharmingly, it seems to me. "

"Come, come, Wilks, you are prejudiced against the young fellow, forthat business with Aggie and young Walsham. "

"I hope I am not prejudiced, squire, " his friend replied; "but when Iknow that a lad is a liar, and that he will bring false accusations toshield himself, and when I know that he was detested by all who came incontact with him--John Petersham, the gardener, and the grooms--Irequire a good deal more than a few satisfactory reports from hiscaptain, who can know very little of his private character, and asoft-soldering letter like that, to reinstate him in my good opinion. Iwill wager that, if you and I had been standing behind him when heopened your letter, you would have heard an expression of verydifferent sentiments from those he writes you here. 

"Look at this: 'I regret, indeed, my dear uncle, that my new cousinmust have such a bad opinion of me, owing to my roughness in thatunfortunate affair, which I have never ceased to regret; but I hopethat, when we meet, I shall be able to overcome the dislike which shemust feel for me. '

"Bah!" the old soldier said scornfully. "I would lay all my pension, toa shilling, that boy has already made up his mind that someday he willmarry Aggie, and so contrive to get the estates after all. "

The squire burst into a good-humoured laugh. 

"It's well I don't take up your wager. Such ideas as that might occurto you and me, but hardly to a lad not yet seventeen. "

"Well, we shall see, " the other said, cooling down. "I hope I may bemistaken in him. We shall see when he comes home. "

When he did come home, the old soldier could find but little fault withthe young man. He had a frank and open manner, such as is common to menof his profession. He was full of life and anecdote. His manner to thesquire was admirable, affectionate, and quietly respectful, without anyair of endeavouring especially to ingratiate himself with him. Norcould the ex-sergeant find anything to complain of in the young man'smanner towards himself. He took the first opportunity, when they werealone, to say how glad he had been, to hear that his grandfather hadmet with a friend and companion in his lonely life, and to express ahope that the bad opinion, which he had doubtless formed of him fromhis conduct when a boy, would not be allowed to operate against himnow. 

But, though there was nothing he could find fault with, the oldsoldier's prejudices were in no way shaken, and, indeed, his antipathywas increased, rather than diminished, by the young officer's conducttowards Aggie. It might be, of course, that he was only striving toovercome the prejudiced feeling against him; but every time the oldsoldier saw him with his granddaughter, he felt angry. 

In point of fact, Aggie was disposed to like Richard, even before hisarrival. Six years had eradicated every tinge of animosity for thatshove on the sand. His letters had been long, bright, and amusing, andwith the mementos of travel which he picked up in the ports of Indiaand China, and from time to time sent home to his uncle, there wasalways a little box with some pretty trinket "for my cousin. " She foundhim now a delightful companion. He treated her as if she had beenseventeen, instead of eleven; was ready to ride or walk with her, or totell her stories of the countries he had seen, as she might choose; andto humour all her whims and fancies. 

"Confound him and his pleasant manners!" the ex-sergeant would mutterto himself, as he watched them together, and saw, as he believed, inthe distance, the overthrow of the scheme he had at heart. "He isturning the child's head; and that foolish boy, James, is throwing awayhis chances. "

James, indeed, came home from school for the last time, two or threeweeks after Richard Horton's return. He was now nearly eighteen, and, although a broad and powerful fellow, was still a boy at heart. He didnot show to advantage by the side of Richard Horton. The first time hewent up to the Hall, after his return, the latter had met him withoutstretched hand. 

"I am glad to meet you again, " he said. "I behaved like a blackguard, last time we met, and you gave me the thrashing which I deserved. Ihope we shall get on better, in the future. "

Aggie and her two grandfathers were present, and James Walshamcertainly did not show to advantage, by the side of the easy andself-possessed young officer. He muttered something about its being allright, and then found nothing else to say, being uncomfortable, and illat ease. He made some excuse about being wanted at home, and took hisleave; nor did he again go up to call. Several times, the old soldierwent down to Sidmouth to see him, and on one occasion remonstrated withhim for not coming up to the Hall. 

"What's the use?" James said, roughly. "I have got lots of reading todo, for in two months, you know, I am to go up to London, to walk thehospitals. No one wants me up there. Aggie has got that cousin of hersto amuse her, and I should feel only in the way, if I went. "

Mr. Wilks was fairly out of temper at the way things were going. He wasangry with James; angry with the squire, who evidently viewed withsatisfaction the good understanding between his granddaughter andnephew; angry, for the first time in his life, with Aggie herself. 

"You are growing a downright little flirt, Miss Aggie, " he said oneday, when the girl came in from the garden, where she had been laughingand chatting with her cousin. 

He had intended to speak playfully, but there was an earnestness in histone which the girl, at once, detected. 

"Are you really in earnest, grampa?" she asked, for she still retainedthe childish name for her grandfather--so distinguishing him from thesquire, whom she always called grandpapa. 

"No; I don't know that I am in earnest, Aggie, " he said, trying tospeak lightly; "and yet, perhaps, to some extent I am. "

"I am sure you are, " the girl said. "Oh, grampa! You are not reallycross with me, are you?" and the tears at once sprang into her eyes. "Ihave not been doing anything wrong, have I?"

"No, my dear, not in the least wrong, " her grandfather said hastily. "Still, you know, I don't like seeing Jim, who has always been so goodand kind to you, quite neglected, now this young fellow, who is not fitto hold a candle to him, has turned up. "

"Well, I haven't neglected him, grampa. He has neglected me. He hasnever been near since that first day, and you know I can't very well goround to Sidmouth, and say to him, 'Please come up to the Hall. '"

"No, my dear, I know you can't, and he is behaving like a young fool. "

"Why is he?" Aggie asked, surprised. "If he likes sailing about betterthan coming up here, why shouldn't he?"

"I don't think it's for that he stays away, Aggie. In fact, you see, Jim has only just left school, and he feels he can't laugh, and talk, and tell you stories about foreign countries, as this young fellow can, and having been so long accustomed to have you to himself, he naturallywould not like the playing second fiddle to Richard Horton. "

"But he hasn't been here much, " the girl said, "ever since I came here. He used to be so nice, and so kind, in the old days when I lived downthere, that I can't make out why he has changed so. "

"My dear, I don't think he has changed. He has been only a boy, and thefact is, he is only a boy still. He is fond of sailing, and of theamusements boys take to, and he doesn't feel at home, and comfortablehere, as he did with you when you were a little girl at his mother's. But mind, Aggie, James is true as steel. He is an honourable andupright young fellow. He is worth fifty of this self-satisfied, pleasant-spoken young sailor. "

"I know James is good and kind, grampa, " the girl said earnestly; "butyou see, he is not very amusing, and Richard is very nice. "

"Nice! Yes, " the old soldier said; "a fair weather sort of niceness, Aggie. Richard Horton is the squire's nephew, and I don't wish to sayanything against him; but mark my words, and remember them, there'smore goodness in James's little finger, than there is in his wholebody. But there, I am a fool to be talking about it. There is yourcousin calling you, in the garden. Go along with you. "

The girl went off slowly, wondering at her grandfather's earnestness. She knew she liked her old playmate far better than Richard Horton, although the latter's attentions pleased and flattered her. The oldsoldier went straight off to the squire's study. 

"Squire, " he said, "you remember that talk we had, three years ago, when your nephew's answer came to your letter, telling him that Aggiewas found. I told you that I would wager he had made up his mind tomarry her. You laughed at me; but I was right. Child though she stillis, he is already paving the way for the future. "

"Master Richard certainly is carrying on a sort of flirtation with thelittle witch, " the squire said, smiling; "but as she is such a merechild as you say, what does it matter?"

"I think it matters a great deal, " the old soldier said seriously. "Isee, squire, the young fellow has quite regained your good opinion; andunless I am mistaken, you have already thought, to yourself, that itwould not be a bad thing if they were to come together someday. 

"I have thought it over, and have made up my mind that, in spite ofyour four years' continued kindness to me, and of the warm friendshipbetween us, I must go away for a time. My box is still lying at Exeter, and I would rather tramp the country again, and live on it and mypension, than stay here and see my darling growing up a woman with thatfuture before her. I am sorry to say, squire, that what you call myprejudice is as strong as ever. I doubt that young fellow as stronglyas I did before he came home. Then, I only had his past conduct and hisletter to go by. Now I have the evidence of my own senses. You may askme what I have against him. I tell you--nothing; but I misdoubt himfrom my heart. I feel that he is false, that what he was when a boy, heis now. There is no true ring about him. "

The squire was silent for a minute or two. He had a very sincerefriendship and liking for his companion, a thorough confidence in hisjudgment and principles. He knew his self-sacrificing nature, and thathe was only speaking from his love for his grandchild. 

"Do not let us talk about it now, old friend, " he said quietly. "Youand I put, before all other things, Aggie's happiness. Disagreementbetween us there can be none on the subject. Give me tonight to thinkover what you have said, and we will talk about it again tomorrow. "

Chapter 6: A Storm. 

After breakfast next morning, the squire asked his friend to go withhim into his study. 

"I have been thinking this matter over, " he said, "very seriously, and, upon reflection, I agree with you that it is undesirable that Aggieshould see much of Richard, until she is of an age to form a fairopinion for herself, and to compare him with other young men. I agreewith you, also, that we have not yet sufficient proofs that he iscompletely changed. I hope that he is. You think he is not. At anyrate, he must have a longer trial, and until it is proved to yoursatisfaction, as well as mine, that he is in every way a desirablehusband for Aggie, the less they see of each other, the better. Itherefore propose to write at once to my friend Admiral Hewson, to askhim to use his influence, at the admiralty, to get the young fellowappointed to a ship. Does that meet your approval, my friend?"

"Quite so, " the other said cordially. "Nothing could be better. In themeantime, as you say, should Richard turn out well, and the youngpeople take a liking for each other, no match could be moresatisfactory. What I want is that she should take no girlish fancy forhim, at present. "

"So be it, then, " the squire said. "I think, you know, that we are acouple of old fools, to be troubling ourselves about Aggie's future, atpresent. Still, in a matter which concerns us both so nearly, we cannotbe too careful. If we had a woman with us, we could safely leave thematter in her hands; as it is, we must blunder on, as best we may. "

And so it was settled, and a week later, Richard Horton received anofficial letter from the admiralty, ordering him to proceed at once toPortsmouth to join the Thetis, to which he was appointed as fourthlieutenant. The order gave Richard extreme satisfaction. He wasbeginning to find his life desperately dull, and he was heartily sickof playing the attentive nephew. He was well content with the progresshe had made; nothing had gone wrong since he returned, his uncle hadclearly taken him back into his favour, and he had no doubt that Aggiequite appreciated the pains he had bestowed to gain her liking. 

He detested the squire's companion, for he felt that the latterdisliked and distrusted him, and that his projects would meet with awarm opposition on his part. Still, with the squire and Aggie herselfon his side, he did not fear the result. As to James Walsham, whom hehad come home prepared to regard as a possible rival, from his earlyintimacy with the child, and the fact that his mother was hergoverness, he now regarded him with contempt, mingled with a revengefuldetermination to pay off the old score, should a chance ever presentitself. 

He therefore started next day in high spirits, assuming, however, agreat reluctance to tear himself away. A few days later a letter camefrom him, saying that he hoped that he should be able to come back, sometimes, for a day or two, as the Thetis was at present to beattached to the Channel squadron, and it was not expected that shewould, for some time, proceed on foreign service. 

Early in October, James Walsham was to go up to London, to commence hismedical course. A week before he was to start, Mr. Wilks went down inthe morning, intending to insist on his returning with him to the Hall. As he went down towards Sidmouth, the old soldier noticed how stronglythe wind was blowing, the trees were swaying and thrashing in the wind, the clouds were flying past overhead. Everything portended a severegale. 

Finding, at Mrs. Walsham's, that James was down on the beach, hecontinued his course until he joined him there. James was standing witha group of fishermen, who were looking seaward. Now that he was exposedto the full force of the wind, Mr. Wilks felt that, not only was itgoing to blow a gale, but that it was blowing one already. The heavyclouds on the horizon seemed to lie upon the water, the waves werebreaking with great force upon the beach, and the fishermen had hauledtheir boats up across the road. 

"It's blowing hard, Jim, " he said, laying his hand on the youngfellow's shoulder. 

"It is blowing hard, and it will blow a great deal harder beforenightfall. The fishermen all think it is going to be an exceptionalgale. It is blowing dead on shore. It will be bad work for any shipsthat happen to be coming up Channel today. Eight or ten of our boatsare out. We thought we had made out three of them just before you came, but the cloud closed down on them. The fishermen are just going to getlifelines ready. I am afraid we are going to have a terrible night ofit. "

"I came down to ask you if you will come up to lunch, Jim, but Isuppose you will not be able to tear yourself away from here. "

"I shouldn't like to leave now, indeed. There is no saying what mayhappen. Besides, so many of the fishermen are away, that I may beuseful here if a vessel comes ashore, and there may be half a dozenbefore the morning. Every hand will be wanted to give assistance. "

"But you could not get a boat out through those breakers, could you, Jim?"

"Yes, " Jim replied, "we might get one of the big boats through it now;but it's going to be worse, presently. When I went out, last year, witha boat to the brig which was driven ashore, it was worse than this. 

"I shall be very glad to come up tomorrow, if you will let me. I hearthat fellow Horton went away last week. "

"Yes, he went away, Jim. But why his being there should have kept youfrom going up is beyond me. "

"I don't like the fellow, Mr. Wilks. He may mean very well, but I don'tlike him. I have been in one row about him with the squire, and I don'twant another; but I am quite sure, if I had gone up much while he wasthere, it would have ended in my trying to punch his head again. "

"In that case, perhaps, " the old soldier said, smiling, "you were wiseto stay away, Jim. I don't like the lad myself. Still, punching hishead would not have been a desirable thing. "

"I am glad you don't like him, " James said, warmly. "Somehow I made upmy mind that you were all sure to like him, and I don't suppose theidea made me like him any the better. He was just the free-and-easysort of fellow to get along well, and I was quite sure that Aggie wouldnot want me, when she had him to go about with her. I saw him drivethrough in the pony carriage with her, two or three times, and it waseasy to see how thoroughly she was enjoying herself. "

"Well, it was your own fault, my boy. If you choose to sulk down here, and never to go up to the Hall, you can't blame Aggie for lettingherself be amused by someone else. "

"Oh! I don't blame her, " James said hastily. "Of course, it is allright that she should enjoy herself with her cousin. Only somehow, youknow, after being great friends with anyone, one doesn't like to seesomeone else stepping into your place. "

"But as I have told you, over and over again, during the last threeyears, Jim, you have willfully stepped out of your place. You know howoften I have asked you to come up, and how seldom you have come. Youhave never shown Aggie that you have any wish to continue on thefooting of friendship, on which you stood towards each other when shewas at your mother's, and as you have chosen to throw her over, I don'tsee why she shouldn't take to anyone else who takes pains to makehimself pleasant to her. "

"Oh! I don't blame her a bit, Mr. Wilks. How could you think such athing! I was very fond of little Aggie when she was at my mother's; butof course, I was not ass enough to suppose that she was going trottingabout the country with me, when she once went up to the Hall as thesquire's granddaughter. Of course, the whole thing was changed. 

"Ah! Here comes the rain. "

As he spoke, a sudden splash of rain struck them. It might have beennoticed coming across the water in a white line. With it came a gust ofwind, to which that which had already been blowing was a trifle. Therewas no more talking, for nothing less than a shout could have beenheard above the roaring of the wind. It was scarcely possible to standagainst the fury of the squall, and they were driven across the road, and took shelter at the corner of some houses, where the fishermen hadalready retired. 

The squall lasted but a few minutes, but was soon succeeded by another, almost equally furious, and this seemed to increase in strength, untilthe wind was blowing a perfect hurricane; but the fishermen nowstruggled across the road again, for, between the rain squalls, aglimpse had been caught of two of the fishing boats, and these were nowapproaching the shore. A mere rag of sail was set on each, and yet theytore over the waves at tremendous speed. 

One was some two hundred yards ahead of the other, and by the coursethey were making, they would come ashore nearly at the same spot. Thenews that two boats were in sight spread rapidly, and many of thefishermen's wives, with shawls over their heads, ran down and stoodpeering out from behind shelter, for it was well-nigh impossible tostand exposed to the fury of the gale. 

An old fisherman stood, with a coil of rope in his hand, close to thewater's edge. Several of the others stood close to him, and four ofthem had hold of the other end of the rope. When the boat was withinfifty yards of shore, the sail was lowered; but she still drovestraight on before the wind, with scarce an abatement in her speed. Aman stood in her bow, also with a coil of rope in his hand, and, as heapproached, threw it far ahead. The fisherman rushed waist deep intothe water and caught the end of it, which in a moment was knotted tothe one in his hand. 

"Run along with her, " he shouted. 

For a moment, the boat towered on the top of a wave, which raced intowards the shore. The next, as it came, took her stern, and she was inthe act of swinging round, when the strain of the rope came upon her, and brought her straight again. Higher and higher the wave rose, andthen crashed down, and the boat shot forward, like an arrow, in thefoam. The fishermen rushed forward and caught it, those on board leaptout waist-deep; all were taken off their feet by the backward rush, butthey clung to the sides of the boat, while the men at the head rope, with their heels dug deeply into the sand, withstood the strain, andkept her from being swept out again. 

A few seconds, and the boat was left dry, and the next wave carried ithigh up on the beach, amid a loud cheer from the fishermen and lookerson; but there was no time to waste, for the next boat was close athand. Again, the rope was thrown to the shore, but this time the straincame a moment too late, the following wave turned the boat round, thenext struck it broadside and rolled it, over and over, towards theshore. The fishermen, in an instant, joined hands, and rushing downinto the water, strove to grasp the men. 

Several times, those in front were knocked down and rolled up on thebeach, but three of the crew were brought in with them. There was onestill missing, and there was a shout as he was seen, clinging to anoar, just outside the line of breakers. James Walsham had been workingwith the fishermen in saving those already brought to shore. He nowfastened the end of a line round his body. 

"You can never get through those rollers--they will break you up likean eggshell, " the old fisherman shouted. 

"I will dive through them, " Jim shouted back. "Give me plenty of slack, and don't pull, till you see I have got him. "

The lad waited for his opportunity, and then, rushing down after thesheet of white foam, he stood, waist deep, as a great wave, some twelvefeet high, towered up like a wall towards him. It was just going tobreak, when James plunged, head foremost, into it. There was a crashwhich shook the earth, a mass of wildly rushing foam, and then, someten yards beyond the spot where the wave had broken, Jim's headappeared above the surface. It was but for a moment, for he immediatelydived again, under the next wave, and then came up within a few yardsof the floating oar. A stroke or two, and he was alongside. He seizedthe man, and held up one arm as a signal. In a moment the ropetightened, and they moved towards shore. When they were close to theedge of the breaking waves, Jim held up his hand, and the strainstopped. 

"Now, " he said to the man, "the moment they begin to pull, leave go ofthe oar, and throw your arms round me. "

He waited until a wave, bigger than ordinary, approached, and, just asit began to pass under him, gave the signal. Higher and higher theyseemed to rise, then they were dashed down with a tremendous shock. There was a moment's confusion as they were swept along in the whitewater. Jim felt a terrific strain, and it seemed to him that the ropewould cut him in sunder. Then he was seized by a dozen strong arms, andcarried high and dry, before the next wave could reach him. 

For a minute or two he was scarce conscious. The breath had been almostknocked out of his body, with the break of the wave, and the rushingwater seemed still singing in his ears. 

"Are you hurt, my boy? Are you hurt, James?" were the first words heclearly heard. 

"No, I think I am all right, " he said, trying to sit up. "Is the otherfellow all right?"

"He has broke his arm, " one of the fishermen, who had just helped theman to his feet, replied. "He may be thankful it's no worse. "

James was now helped to his feet. 

"I am all right, " he repeated to Mr. Wilks, "except that I feel as if Ihad a hot iron round my body. That rope has taken the skin off allround me, I fancy, and doesn't it smart, just, with the salt water!"

"Oh, James, how could you do it?" a girl's voice said suddenly. 

The fishermen drew aside, and Aggie Linthorne pressed forward. 

The squire had gone into her schoolroom and had said:

"Mrs. Walsham, I think you had better give up your lessons for themorning, and get home. It is blowing a gale now, and we shall probablyhave the rain down before long. I will walk down with you. The wind isdead on the shore, and it will be a grand sight. "

Aggie at once set her mind on going, too; but the squire refused, untilMrs. Walsham suggested that, if it came on wet, Aggie could stop at herhouse until it cleared up, or, if necessary, till morning. Whereupon, the squire had given way, and the three had started together forSidmouth, leaving Mrs. Walsham at her house as they passed. The othershad struggled down, against the wind, until they came within sight ofthe sea. The first boat had just been run safely on shore when theyarrived, and Aggie gave a cry, and put her hands over her face, as thesecond boat was seen to capsize. 

"Cling to me, Aggie, " the squire said. "See, they are rushing in thewater to save them. They will have them, yet!"

At the cheer which broke out from the spectators, clustering thicklynow, as the first of the shipwrecked crew was brought to shore, Aggielooked out again. It was a sight she never forgot. With the great wavescrashing down on the shore, and the line of straggling figures, waistdeep in the white foam, in which were scattered, here and there, portions of the boat, oars, sails, and nets. 

"Well done, well done!" the squire exclaimed. "They have dragged upthree of them. I don't know whether there are any more. "

"Yes, yes, look!" Aggie cried; "there, out in the waves--there, I cansee a head. That's just about where I was nearly drowned. Oh, grandpapa, take me away, I can't look at it. "

"There's someone going out to save him, Aggie. Listen to the cheer. "

Aggie looked again. 

"Oh, grandpapa, stop him, stop him!" she cried, "it's James. "

But at the same moment the plunge was made, and the figure lost tosight. 

Aggie threw her arms round her grandfather, and hid her face. 

"I can't look, I can't look, " she cried. "Tell me about it. "

"There, he is up; bravo!" the squire exclaimed, almost as excited asshe was. "He has dived again, dear, "--then, after a pause--"there he isclose to him. He has got him, Aggie! Now he is waving his hand; nowthey are tightening the rope; now he is waving his hand again, and theyare waiting. There!"

There was a pause, which seemed to the girl to be endless, then thesquire cried:

"They have got them out, both of them;" and a loud cheer broke from allstanding round. 

"Come along, grandpapa, let us go down to them. "

"Stay a moment, my dear. They may be hurt. It's better you should notgo. "

The girl stood, with her hands clasped, gazing at the fishermen groupedon the shore, stooping over the prostrate figures. Then one of themstood up and waved his hand, and the spectators knew that all was well. Then the girl ran down to join them. 

"Why, Aggie!" James exclaimed in astonishment, as she pressed forward. "Why, my dear, what brings you here in this storm? Whatever will thesquire say?"

"The squire has brought her down himself, " Mr. Linthorne said, following closely behind his granddaughter; "and he is glad he did, James, for she has seen a grand sight. 

"You are a fine fellow;" and he wrung the lad's hand. 

"A grand fellow, Wilks, isn't he?"

"I always said so, squire, " the old soldier said, his face beaming withsatisfaction; "but now, let us get him home, and Aggie, too. The childwill be blown away. "

But, for a minute or two, they could not carry James off, so closelydid the men and women press round him, and shake him by the hand. Atlast they got him away, and, escorted by a crowd of cheering boys, ledhim back to his mother's. 

"Your son is a hero, Mrs. Walsham!" the squire exclaimed as theyentered; "but don't talk to him now, but mix him a glass of hot grog. 

"Wilks, you get him between the blankets directly. I will tell hismother all about it, while she is mixing the grog. 

"Hallo, Aggie! Why, bless the child, she's fainted. "

The girl had borne up till they reached the house, towards which thewind had blown her along, as she clung to her grandfather's arm; butthe excitement had been too much for her, and, the instant they enteredthe room, she had dropped into an armchair, and at once lostconsciousness. 

Mrs. Walsham kept her presence of mind, in spite of her bewilderment atthese sudden occurrences. She at once laid the girl on the sofa, removed her dripping bonnet and cloak, and poured a few drops of brandybetween her lips, while she set the squire to work, to chafe her hands. Aggie soon opened her eyes, and recovered her consciousness. 

"Don't try to get up, Aggie, " Mrs. Walsham said. "You are faint andshaken with all this excitement. Your grandpapa and I were two veryfoolish people, to let you come out. 

"Now, Mr. Wilks, the best thing you can do, is to find a boy outside, and send him up to the Hall, with a message that the carriage is tocome down directly. 

"I think, Mr. Linthorne, she had better get back home. I should be gladenough, as you know, to keep her here for the night; but this house isrocking with the wind, now, and she would not be likely to get anysleep here. I will run up and see how James is, and if he is all right, I will come up with her and stop the night. She is very much shaken, and had better not be alone. "

Mrs. Walsham soon came downstairs again, and said that James said henever felt better in his life, and that, by all means, she was to go upto the Hall. She then set about and prepared a cup of tea, whichgreatly restored Aggie, and, by the time the carriage arrived, the girlwas able to walk to the gate. 

Mr. Wilks had offered to remain with James, but the latter would nothear of it. The lad was, indeed, well pleased to hear that they wereall going up to the Hall, as thereby he escaped hearing any more of hisown praises. Besides, he was most anxious to get down to the beachagain, for no one could say what might take place there before morning. 

As soon, therefore, as he heard the door close, he jumped out of bed, and when, peeping through the blinds, he saw the carriage drive offwith its four occupants, he at once began to dress. He felt bruised andsore from the blows he had received, and a red wheal round his chest, beneath the arms, showed where the rope had almost cut into the flesh. However, he soon dressed himself, and descended the stairs, went intothe kitchen, and told the astonished girl that he was going out; then, having made a hasty meal of bread and cold meat, he put on his oilskinsagain, and started for the shore. 

He did not, however, wait long. So heavy was the sea, now, that nothingwhatever could be done should any vessel drive ashore, and, as for thefisher boats, the sailors shook their heads as they spoke of them. 

"They were farther away to the west, so the chaps as got ashore tellsus. They may have got in, somewhere, before it got to the worst. Ifnot, it must have gone hard with them. "

Finding that there was nothing to be done, and that he was much morestiff and bruised than he had believed, Jim made his way back again, and turned into bed; where he soon fell asleep, and did not wake untilthe following morning. 

One of the grooms had come down from the Hall, at six o'clock, toinquire how he was, and the message given by the girl, that he had beenout, but that he had come back and was now sound asleep, satisfied Mrs. Walsham, and enabled her to devote her undivided attention to hercharge, who needed her care more than her son. Before night, indeed, the squire had sent down to Sidmouth for Dr. Walsham's successor, whosaid that Aggie was very feverish, and must be kept perfectly quiet forsome days. He sent her up a soothing draught, and Mrs. Walsham sat upwith her all night. She slept but little, and talked almostincessantly, sometimes rambling a little. 

The first thing in the morning, the doctor was again sent for, and onhis recommendation the squire at once sent off a man, on horseback, toExeter, for the leading physician of that town. When he arrived, latein the afternoon, Aggie was somewhat quieter, and his report was morecheering. 

"Her pulse is very high, " he said; "but Mr. Langford tells me that itis not so rapid as it was in the morning, and that he thinks thesymptoms are abating. Undoubtedly, it is a sharp feverish attack, brought on by excitement and exposure. A very little more, and it wouldhave been a case of brain fever, but I trust now that it will soon passoff. The sedatives that have been administered are taking effect, and Itrust she will soon fall asleep. 

"As you requested, I have made my arrangements for staying heretonight, and I trust that, by the morning, we shall have herconvalescent. "

Mr. Wilks had gone down, the first thing in the morning, to see James, and found him up and about as usual. He was very greatly concerned, athearing that Aggie had passed a bad night, and came four times up tothe Hall, during the day, to inquire about her; and on his last visit, late in the evening, he was told that she was sleeping quietly, andthat the doctor had every hope that she would wake, in the morning, free from fever. This proved to be the case; but she was ordered tokeep her bed for a day or two. 

On the morning after the storm, the wind had gone down much, although atremendous sea was still breaking on the shore. Messages arrived, inthe course of the day, to say that all the missing boats, with oneexception, had succeeded in gaining the shore before the storm was fullon. The missing boat was never heard of again. 

Two days later, James Walsham had strolled up the hill to the east ofthe town, and was lying, with a book before him, in a favourite nook ofhis looking over the sea. It was one of the lovely days which sometimescome late in autumn, as if the summer were determined to show itself atits best, before leaving. It could not be said that James was studying, for he was watching the vessels passing far out at sea, and inwardlymoaning over the fact that he was destined for a profession for whichhe had no real liking, instead of being free to choose one of traveland adventure. 

Presently, he heard voices behind him. The position, in which he waslying, was a little distance down on the slopes, on the seaward side ofthe path, and, as a screen of bushes grew behind it, he could not beseen by anyone passing along. 

"All the men, with their pistols and cutlasses, are to assemble here atten o'clock tonight, Johnson. But do not give them orders till late, and let them come up, one by one, so as not to attract attention. Lipscombe's men are to assemble at the same hour, and march to meet us. This time, I think, there is no mistake. The cargo is to be landedwhere I told you. It will be high tide at twelve o'clock, and they aresure to choose that hour, so that the cutter can run close in. I havesent off a man on horseback to Weymouth, for the revenue cutter to comeround. If she's in time, we shall catch that troublesome lugger, aswell as her cargo. She has been a thorn in our side for the last year. This time, I do hope we shall have her. "

The speakers then moved on out of hearing, but James Walsham recognizedthe voice, as that of the revenue officer commanding the force atSidmouth. 

Smuggling was, at that time, carried on on a large scale along thecoast, and there were frequent collisions between those engaged in itand the revenue officers. The sympathies of the population were whollywith the smugglers, and the cheating of the revenue was not at allconsidered in the light of a crime. 

Many of the fishermen, from time to time, took a hand in smugglingcruises, and the country people were always ready to lend assistance inlanding and carrying the cargoes. 

When out in their boats at night, James had often heard the fishermentell stories of their smuggling adventures, and more than once he hadbeen with them, when they had boarded a lugger laden with contraband, to warn them that the revenue cutter was on the cruising ground, and itwould not be safe to attempt to run cargo at present. He nowdetermined, at once, that he would warn the smugglers of their danger. The question was, where was the cargo to be run? The officer had notmentioned the spot, but, as the force from the next station to the eastwas to cooperate, it must be somewhere between the two. 

Waiting till the speakers must have gone well along the cliff, he roseto his feet, and returned to Sidmouth. He thought, at first, of tellingsome of the fishermen what he had heard, but as, in the event of anaffray, it might come out how the smugglers had been warned of theintention of the revenue officers, he thought there would be less riskin giving them warning himself. He knew every path down the cliff formiles, and trusted that he should be able to make his way down, andgive the boats notice of their danger, before the revenue men reachedthe shore. 

At nine o'clock he dressed himself, in the rough sailor's suit he worewhen he went out with the fishermen, and started along the cliff. Forsome distance he kept well inland, as the officer might have placed aman on the lookout, to stop anyone going towards the scene of action. The spot he thought the most likely was a mile and a half along theshore. There was a good landing place, and an easy path up the cliff, and he knew that cargoes had been more than once run here. Accordingly, when he reached this spot, he sat down among some bushes on the edge ofthe cliff, and waited for some sort of signal. Half an hour later, heheard the tramp of a number of men, passing along behind him. 

"There go the revenue men, " he thought to himself. "I suppose they aregoing to meet those coming the other way. "

An hour passed without further sound, and James began to get uneasy. Ifthis was the spot fixed for the landing, some of the country peopleought to be arriving, by this time, to help to carry off the cargo. They might, for aught he knew, be already near, waiting for the signalbefore they descended the path. No doubt the revenue men would be lyingin wait, a short distance off, and would allow the friends of thesmugglers to go down to the water, without letting them know of theirpresence. 

He kept his eyes fixed on the water to the east, watching anxiously forthe appearance of a light. Presently he started. Immediately in frontof him, about a mile at sea, a bright light was shown. In a second, itdisappeared. Three times it flashed out, and then all was dark. Thenight was a very dark one. There was no moon, and the stars wereobscured, and although he strained his eyes to the utmost, he could notmake out the vessel from which the light had been shown. 

"How foolish to show such a bright light!" he said to himself. "Itwould have been almost sure to attract the attention of anyone on thewatch. "

He made his way to the path, and descended to the edge of the water, and waited, expecting momentarily to be joined by people from above. But no one came. He strained his ears listening for the fall ofapproaching oars; but all was silent. 

Half an hour passed, and then it flashed across him that the signalmust have been made to deceive the revenue men, and to cause them toassemble at that spot, and so leave the point really determined uponfree for operations. 

With an exclamation of disgust at his own stupidity, in having beendeceived, James ran up the path again at the top of his speed, and thentook the road along the cliff. For two miles, he ran withoutinterruption, and then saw a dark mass in front of him. He turned off, instantly, to the left. Doubtless he had been heard approaching, fortwo or three men detached themselves from the rest, and started to cuthim off. James ran straight inland, and in the darkness soon lost sightof his pursuers. Then he turned, and made for the cliff again. Two orthree hundred yards farther along, there was another path to the shore, and this he had no doubt, now, was the one the smugglers were about touse. He struck the cliff within a few yards of the spot. In an instant, two men jumped up and seized him. 

"Who are you?"

For an instant, James thought that his assailants were revenue men, but, even in the darkness, he saw that they were countrymen. 

"Quick!" he said. "The revenue men are close at hand. They arewatching, two or three hundred yards along. Listen! Here they come. "

A tramping of feet coming rapidly along the cliff was clearly heard, and the men, with an oath, released their hold and ran off, giving aloud whistle, and made for their carts, which were stationed a fewhundred yards inland. James dashed down the path, shouting at the topof his voice. He had not gone many yards before he met a number of men, coming up with tubs of spirits on their shoulders. 

"Throw them down, " he cried, "and make along the shore. The revenue menare close behind. "

His advice was taken at once. The tubs were thrown down, and wentleaping and bounding down to the shore, while the men followed James, at full speed, down the path. 

Their pursuers were close behind. There was no longer any use inconcealment. Their officer shouted to them to press forward at fullspeed, while, from the beach below, a hubbub of voices suddenly brokeout, and, at the same moment, a blue light was lit on the cliff above. 

"Beat them back, my lads, " one of the smugglers was shouting, as Jamesran down to the little crowd of men standing near two boats. "We arefive to one against them. Come on. "

"Surrender in the king's name, " the revenue officer shouted, as herushed forward, followed by his men. 

The answer was a pistol shot, and, in a moment, a furious melee began. The advantage in numbers was all on the side of the smugglers. Thosewho had landed with the kegs were all armed with pistol and cutlass, and the countrymen had heavy sticks and bludgeons. The ten revenue menwould have been overpowered, but suddenly a shout was heard, andanother party of sailors ran up along the shore, and joined in thefray. It was the detachment from the other station, which had beenwaiting, at some little distance along the shore, for the signal fromabove. 

"To the boats, lads, " the leader of the smugglers shouted. "We arecaught in a trap. "

The smugglers rushed to the boats, and James, who was standing by thewater's edge, leaped on board with them. Most of the country peoplefled at once along the shore, pursued by some of the revenue men, whilethe others made a rush for the boats. These had been kept afloat a fewyards from the shore. Grapnels had been dropped over their sterns, and, as the men in charge hauled out the moment the fight began, they werein water shoulder deep when the smugglers scrambled on board. 

The revenue men dashed in after them, and strove to hold the boats; butthey were beaten off with oars and cutlasses, and the boats were soonhauled out into deep water. The grapnels were lifted, and the men, manyof whom were wounded more or less severely in the fray, got out theiroars and pulled to the lugger, amid a dropping fire of pistol shotsfrom shore. 

Chapter 7: Pressed. 

Many and deep were the maledictions uttered, as the smugglers climbedon board their vessel; but their captain said cheerily:

"Never mind, lads, it might have been worse. It was only the firstcargo of tubs, and half of those weren't ashore. The lace and silk areall right, so no great harm is done. Set to work, and get up sail assoon as you can. Likely enough there is a cutter in the offing; thatblue light must have been a signal. They seem to have got news of ourlanding, somehow. "

The crew at once set to work to get up sail. Three or four of thecountrymen, who had, like James, got on board the boats, stood in agroup looking on, confused and helpless; but James lent his assistance, until the sails were hoisted and the craft began to move through thewater. 

"Now, then, " the captain said, "let us go below and look at the wounds. We daren't show a light, here on deck. "

The wounds were, for the most part, slashes and blows with cutlasses;for in the darkness and confusion of the fight, only two of the bulletshad taken effect. One of the smugglers had fallen, shot through thehead, while one of those on board had his arm broken by a pistol ball. 

"Now for our passengers, " the captain said, after the wounds had beenbandaged. 

"Who are you?" and he lifted a lantern to James's face. 

"Why, it is young Mr. Walsham!" he exclaimed in surprise. 

James knew the man now, for the lugger had several times put in atSidmouth, where, coming in as a peaceable trader, the revenue officers, although well aware of the nature of her vocation, were unable to touchher, as vessels could only be seized when they had contraband on board. 

"Why, what brings you into this affair, young master?"

James related the conversation he had overheard, and his determinationto warn the smugglers of their danger. 

"I should have managed it, in plenty of time, if I had known the exactspot on which you were going to land; but I saw a signal light, twomiles down the coast, and that kept me there for half an hour. Itstruck me, then, it was a ruse to attract the officers from the realspot of landing, but though I ran as hard as I could, I was only justbefore them. "

"Thank you heartily, " the smuggler said. "I expect you saved us from amuch worse mess than we got into. I have no doubt they meant to capturethe tubs, as they were loaded, without raising an alarm; and thefellows on the shore would have come up quietly, and taken us bysurprise as we were landing the last boat loads. Thanks to you, we havegot well out of it, and have only lost one of our hands, and a score orso of tubs. "

"You can't put me ashore, I suppose?" James said. 

"That I can't, " the smuggler replied. "I have no doubt that cutter fromWeymouth is somewhere outside us, and we must get well off the coastbefore morning. If we give her the slip, I will send you off in a boatsometime tomorrow. I must go ashore, myself, to make fresh arrangementsfor getting my cargo landed. "

James went on deck again. The breeze was light, and the lugger wasslipping along quietly through the water. He could faintly see the loomof the cliffs on his right, and knew that the lugger was running west, keeping as close inshore as she could, to avoid the cutter watching forher outside. He wondered what they would say at home, when it was foundthat he was missing; but consoled himself by thinking that his mother, who was still up at the Hall, would no doubt suppose that he had goneout for a night's fishing, as he had often done before, and that, asshe was away, he had forgotten to leave word with the servant. 

Suddenly, a blue light burned out on the top of the cliff. An angryexclamation broke from the captain, who was standing at the helm. 

"Confound it!" he exclaimed. "They have caught sight of us from thecliff, and are signalling our whereabouts to the cutter. "

As he spoke, he turned the vessel's head seaward, and, for a quarter ofan hour, sailed straight out. 

"Now, " he said quietly, "I think we must be out of sight of thosefellows on shore. Get her on the other tack, lads, but be as quiet asyou can about it. There's no saying how close the cutter may be to us. "

The great sails were lowered, as the boat's head paid off to the east. The yards were shifted to the other sides of the masts, and the sailshoisted again, and the lugger began to retrace her way back along thecoast. 

"It's just a chance, now, " the captain said to James, who was standingclose by him, "whether the commander of the cutter guesses, or not, that we shall change our course. He will know we are likely enough todo it. "

"What should you do if you were in his place?" James said. 

"I should run straight out to sea, and lay to, eight or ten miles off. He would be able to make us out then at daylight, whichever course wetake; whereas, by trying to follow in the dark, he would run the chanceof missing us altogether. I wish the wind would get up a bit. We arenot moving through the water more than three knots an hour, and it'sdying away. However, I fancy it will blow up again in the morning. "

"Do you know whether she is faster than you are?" James asked. 

"There is not much difference, " the captain replied. "If the wind isstrong, we have the legs of her; but in a light breeze, she is thefastest. She has chased us half a dozen times already, but we havealways given her the slip. "

"Then, even if she does run out to sea, as you say, " James said, "weought to be safe, as we should be a dozen miles or so along the coast. "

"Yes, but not that ahead of her, " the captain answered, "for she wouldbe so much to the seaward. Still, that would be far enough; but shewill begin to fire long before we are in range, and will bring anyother king's ship within hearing down on us. However, I daresay weshall give her the slip, as we have done before. "

The hours passed slowly. The wind continued to drop, until the vesselscarcely moved through the water, and, after a while, the sweeps weregot out, and were worked until the day broke. All eyes were on thelookout for the cutter, as the day dawn began to steal over the sky. 

"There she is, sure enough, " the captain exclaimed at length, "lying toon the watch, some eight miles to the west. She must have seen us, forwe are against the light sky; but, like, ourselves, she is becalmed. "

It was a quarter of an hour, however, before the position of the cutterwas seen to change. Then her head was suddenly turned east. 

"She has got the wind, " the captain said. "Now we only want a goodbreeze, and you'll have a lively day of it, lads. "

From the time when she had turned, the lugger had made only about eightmiles along the coast to the east, and an equal distance seaward, forthe tide had set against her. The morning was bright and clear, the seawas perfectly smooth. As yet, the sails hung idly down, but there weredark lines on the water that showed that a breeze was coming. 

"We shall have plenty of wind presently, " the skipper said. "See howlight the sky is to the south. There will be white tops on the waves inan hour or two. 

"Here comes a flaw. Haul in your sheets, lads, now she begins to move. "

The puff did not last long, dying away to nothing in a few minutes, andthen the lugger lay immovable again. The men whistled, stamped the deckimpatiently, and cast anxious glances back at the cutter. 

"She is walking along fast, " the skipper said, as he examined herthrough a glass. "She has got the wind steady, and must be slippingalong at six knots an hour. This is hard luck on us. If we don't getthe breeze soon, it will be a close thing of it. "

Another quarter of an hour passed without a breath of wind ruffling thewater. The cutter was fully two miles nearer to them than when she hadfirst been seen, and was holding the wind steadily. 

"Here it comes, lads, " the skipper said cheerfully. "Another tenminutes, and we shall have our share. "

The time seemed long, indeed, before the dark line on the water reachedthe lugger, and there was something like a cheer, from the crew, as thecraft heeled slightly over, and then began to move through the water. It was the true breeze this time, and increased every moment in force, till the lugger was lying well over, with a white wave at her bow. 

But the cutter had first gained by the freshening breeze, and JamesWalsham, looking back at her, judged that there were not more than fourmiles of water between the boats. The breeze was nearly due west, and, as the lugger was headed as close as she would lie to it, the cutterhad hauled in her sheets and lay up on the same course, so that theywere now sailing almost parallel to each other. 

"If we could change places, " the skipper said, "we should be safe. Wecan sail nearer the wind than she can, but she can edge away now, andhas all the advantage of us. "

James had already perceived this, and wondered that the lugger did notpay off before the wind, so as to make a stern chase of it. 

"I want to get a few miles farther out, " the skipper said. "Likelyenough there is another cutter somewhere inshore. It is quite enough tohave one of these fellows at one's heels. "

Another half hour and the cutter, edging in, was little over threemiles distant. Then the skipper gave the word, the helm was put down, the sheets slackened off, and, in a minute, the lugger was running deadbefore the wind with her sails boomed out, one on either side. Thecutter followed her example, and hoisted a large square sail. 

The wind was blowing fresh now, and the sea was getting up. Not a cloudwas to be seen in the sky, and the sun shone brightly on the whiteheads which were beginning to show on the water. The lugger was tearingalong, occasionally throwing a cloud of spray over her bows, andleaving a track of white water behind her. 

"I think she still gains on us, " the captain said to the mate, who hadtaken the helm. 

"Ay, she is gaining, " the sailor agreed, "but the wind is fresheningevery minute. She can't carry that topsail much longer. It's pressingher bows under now. "

"She will go almost as fast without it, " the skipper said. 

The commander of the cutter seemed to be of the same opinion, for, justas he spoke, the topsail was seen to flutter, and then descended to thedeck. It was a quarter of an hour before the skipper spoke again. 

"I think we just about hold our own, " he said. "I didn't think thePolly could have held her running. "

"She couldn't, in a light wind, " the mate replied; "but with this wind, it will want a fast boat to beat her. "

The hands were now set to work, shifting the kegs further aft. 

"That's better, " the skipper said presently. "I am sure we are gainingground, and our masts will stand it, if the cutter's will. "

With her stern low in the water, the lugger was now tearing along at atremendous pace. Stout as were her masts, and strong the stays, JamesWalsham wondered at their standing the strain of the great brown sails, as they seemed, at times, almost to lift her bodily out of the water. Buoyant as the craft was, the waves broke over her bows and flooded herdecks, and sheets of spray flew over her. 

The cutter, with her sharper bows and all her sail forward, was feelingit still more severely, and the spirits of all on board the lugger roserapidly, as it was evident that they were dropping their pursuers. Suddenly, the gaff of the cutter's mainsail was seen to droop, and theboom was hauled on board. 

"I thought it would be too much for them, " the skipper said exultantly. "They are going to reef. "

"We had better reef down too, I think, " the mate said. "She has had asmuch as she could bear for some time. "

"I'll hold on ten minutes longer, " the skipper said. "Every half milecounts. "

But before that time was up, the sails were one after another reefed, for the wind continued to freshen. The sky was still cloudless, butthere was a misty light in the air, and a heavy sea was beginning torun. 

Suddenly, a gun flashed out from the cutter. The skipper uttered anoath. Their pursuer was more than three miles astern, and he knew thatshe could only be firing as a signal. 

There were several large ships in sight on their way up or down theChannel. To these, little attention had been paid. The skipper shadedhis eyes with a hand, and gazed earnestly at a large ship on theweather beam, some four miles away. 

"That is a frigate, sure enough, " he exclaimed. "We are fairly caughtbetween them. 

"Haul in the sheets, lads, we will have a try for it yet. "

The lugger was brought sharp up into the wind, and was soon staggeringalong seaward, with the lee bulwark almost under water. The cutterinstantly lowered her square sail, and followed her example, continuingto fire a gun every minute. All eyes were turned towards the frigate, which was now on the port beam. 

"We shall cross two miles to windward of her, " the skipper said. "Ifshe keeps on her course, a quarter of an hour will do it, but she issure to notice the guns. The wind will take them down to her. 

"Ah, there she goes. "

As he spoke, a puff of smoke darted out from the frigate's bow. Hersails fluttered, and her head bore round, until she was on the sametack as the lugger. 

The latter was now about equidistant from her two pursuers. The cutterand the lugger were nearly abreast, but the former, being to windward, could edge down. The frigate was three miles to leeward, but she wasfully a mile ahead. 

"There is no way out of it, " the skipper said bitterly. "In a lightwind we could run away from the frigate, but with this breeze we haveno chance with her. Look how she is piling on sail!"

The crew shared the captain's opinion. Some shook their fists andcursed vainly at their pursuers, some stood sullenly scowling, whilethe French portion of the crew gave way to wild outbursts of rage. Rapidly the three vessels closed in towards each other, for the cutteredged in so rapidly that the lugger was obliged to bear off towards thefrigate again. As a last hope, the lugger's course was changed, and sheagain tried running, but the superior weight and power of the frigatebrought her rapidly down. Presently a heavy gun boomed out, and a shotcame dancing along the water, a hundred yards away. 

"Lower the sails, " the skipper said. "It is no use going farther. Theinside of a prison is better than the bottom of the sea, anyhow. "

Down came the sails, and the lugger lay rolling heavily in the waves, as the frigate bore down upon her with a white roll of water on herstem. 

"Get ready, lads, " the skipper said. "There is just one chance yet. Shewill run by us. The instant she is past, up sail again. We shall be amile away before they can get her round into the wind again. If shedoesn't cripple us with her shot, we may weather her yet. We needn'tmind the cutter. "

The frigate came foaming along, the crew busy in taking sail off her. The instant she had passed, and was preparing to round to, the sails ofthe lugger flew up like magic, and she was soon tearing along almost inthe eye of the wind, as if to meet the cutter, which was running downtowards her. 

"Down below, lads, every man of you, " the captain shouted. "We shallhave a broadside in a minute. "

In a moment, the deck was clear of all save the skipper and his mate, who stood at the tiller. The frigate swept slowly round, and then, asher guns came to bear, shot after shot was fired at the lugger, alreadythree-quarters of a mile to the windward. The shot hummed overhead, onestruck the water alongside, a yard or two away, but still she wasuntouched. 

"Some of her shots went as near the cutter as they did to us, " theskipper said. "She won't fire again. "

They were now fast approaching the cutter, which, when she was within aquarter of a mile, changed her course and was brought up again into thewind, firing the four guns she carried on her broadside as she cameround. The lugger's head was paid off, and this placed the cutter onher starboard quarter, both going free. The former was travelling thefaster, but a gun was fired from the cutter's bow, and the shot strucksplinters from the lugger's quarter. The crew were on deck again now. 

"Train that gun over the stern, " the skipper said. "If we can knock hermast out of her, we are saved. If not, they will have us yet. "

He had scarcely spoken when there was a crash. A shot from the cutterhad struck the mizzen mast, a few feet above the deck, and the mast andsail fell over to leeward. There was a cry of rage and dismay. 

"Luck's against us, " the skipper said bitterly. "Down with the sail, lads. This time it is all up with us. "

The sail was lowered, and the lugger lay motionless in the water, untilthe cutter came up and lay within fifty yards of her. A boat was atonce lowered, and an officer was rowed to the lugger. 

"So we have caught you, my friends, at last, " he said, as he sprang onboard. 

"You wouldn't have done it, if it had not been for the frigate, " theskipper said. 

"No; I will say your craft sails like a witch, " the officer replied. "Iwish we could have done it without her. It will make all the differenceto us. The frigate will get the lion's share of the prize. What is thevalue of your cargo?"

"Two hundred kegs of brandy, " the skipper replied, "and fifteen hundredpounds' worth of lace and silks. "

"A good prize, " the officer said. "Not your own, I hope, for you havemade a brave chase of it. "

"No, " the skipper answered. "Fortunately, I only took a very smallshare this time. It's bad enough to lose my boat; I own two-thirds ofher. "

"I am sorry for you, " the officer said, for he was in high spirits atthe success of the chase, and could afford to be pleasant. "Here comesa boat from the frigate. You played them a rare trick, and might havegot off, if it hadn't been for that lucky shot of ours. 

"I see you were just getting out a stern chaser, " and he pointed to thegun. "It is well for you that you didn't fire it, as you can't becharged with armed resistance. "

"I wish I had fired it, for all that. It might have been my luck tocripple you. "

"It would have made no difference if you had, " the officer replied. "The frigate would have overhauled you. With this wind she would sailfive feet to your four. "

The boat from the frigate now came alongside. 

"How are you, Cotterel?" the officer said, as he stepped on board. "That was a lucky shot of yours; but I think it's lucky for the luggerthat you hit her, for the captain was so savage, at that trick theyplayed him, that I believe he would have sunk her when he came up toher again. I heard him say to the first lieutenant, 'I won't give her achance to play me such a trick again. '"

"What orders have you brought?" the other asked. 

"We are outward bound, so you are to put a crew on board and take herinto port; but, as we are very short of hands, we will relieve you ofthe prisoners. "

All on board the lugger were at once ordered into the frigate's boat, and were rowed off to the ship. On gaining the deck, they were drawn upin line, and the captain and first lieutenant came up. The good humourof the former had been restored by the capture of the lugger. 

"Hallo!" he said, looking at the bandaged heads and arms of some of themen, "so you have been having a fight trying to run your cargo, Isuppose. That will make it all the worse for you, when you get onshore. Now, I might press you all without giving you a choice, but Idon't want unwilling hands, so I will leave it to you. Which is it tobe--an English prison for two or three years, or a cruise on board theThetis?"

The greater part of the men at once stepped forward, and announcedtheir willingness to volunteer. 

"Who have we here, " the captain asked, looking at the three countrymen. 

"They are passengers, sir, " the skipper of the lugger said, with a halfsmile. 

A few questions brought to light the facts of the surprise while thecargo was being landed. 

"Well, my lads, " the captain said, "you are in the same boat with therest. You were engaged in an unlawful enterprise, and in resisting hismajesty's officers. You will get some months in prison anyhow, if yougo back. You had better stay on board, and let me make men of you. "

The countrymen, however, preferred a prison to a man o' war. 

James Walsham had been turning over the matter in his mind. He hadcertainly taken no part in the fray, but that would be difficult toprove, and he could not account for his presence except byacknowledging that he was there to warn them. It would certainly be acase of imprisonment. Surely, it would be better to volunteer thanthis. He had been longing for the sea, and here an opportunity openedfor him for abandoning the career his mother intended for him, withoutsetting himself in opposition to her wishes. Surely she would preferthat he should be at sea for a year or two to his being disgraced byimprisonment. He therefore now stepped forward. 

"I do not belong to the lugger's crew, sir, and had nothing to do withrunning their cargo, though I own I was on the spot at the time. I amnot a sailor, though I have spent a good deal of time on board fishingboats. Mr. Horton, whom I see there, knows me, and will tell you that Iam a son of a doctor in Sidmouth. But, as I have got into a scrape, Iwould rather serve than go back and stand a trial. "

"Very well, my lad, " the captain said. "I like your spirit, and willkeep my eye on you. "

The three countrymen and four of the French sailors, who declined tojoin the Thetis, were taken back to the cutter, and the Thetis at onceproceeded on her way down channel. James had given a hastily scribbledline, on the back of an old letter which he happened to have in hispocket, to the men who were to be taken ashore, but he had very littlehope that it would ever reach his mother. Nor, indeed, did it ever doso. When the cutter reached Weymouth with the lugger, the men capturedin her were at once sent to prison, where they remained until they weretried at assizes three months afterwards; and, although all wereacquitted of the charge of unlawful resistance to the king's officers, as there was no proof against any of the six men individually, theywere sentenced to a year's imprisonment for smuggling. 

Whether Jim's hurriedly written letter was thrown overboard, or whetherit was carried in the pocket of the man to whom he gave it until worninto fragments, James never knew, but it never reached his mother. 

The news that James was missing was brought to her upon the day afterthe event by Mr. Wilks. He had, as usual, gone down after breakfast toreport how Aggie was getting on, with a message from his mother thather charge was now so completely restored that it was unnecessary forher to stay longer at the Hall, and that she should come home thatevening at her usual time. Hearing from the girl that James had notreturned since he went out at nine o'clock on the previous evening, theold soldier sauntered down to the beach, to inquire of the fishermen inwhose boat James had gone out. 

To his surprise, he found that none of the boats had put to sea theevening before. The men seemed less chatty and communicative thanusual. Most of them were preparing to go out with their boats, and noneseemed inclined to enter into a conversation. Rather wondering at theirunusual reticence, Mr. Wilks strolled along to where the officer of therevenue men was standing, with his boatswain, watching the fishermen. 

"A fine morning, lieutenant. "

"Yes, " the latter assented. "There will be wind presently. Have youheard of the doings of last night?"

"No, " Mr. Wilks said in surprise, "I have heard nothing. I was justspeaking to the fishermen, but they don't seem in as communicative amood as usual this morning. "

"The scamps know it is safest for them to keep their mouths shut, justat present, " the officer said grimly. "I have no doubt a good many ofthem were concerned in that affair last night. We had a fight with thesmugglers. Two of my men were shot and one of theirs, and there were agood many cutlass wounds on each side. We have taken a score ofprisoners, but they are all country people who were assisting in thelanding; the smugglers themselves all got off. We made a mess of theaffair altogether, thanks to some fellow who rushed down and gave thealarm, and upset all the plans we had laid. 

"It is too provoking. I had got news of the exact spot and hour atwhich the landing was to take place. I had my men all up on the cliff, and, as the fellows came up with kegs, they were to have been allowedto get a hundred yards or so inland and would there have been seized, and any shout they made would not have been heard below. LieutenantFisher, with his party from the next station, was to be a little wayalong at the foot of the cliffs, and when the boats came with thesecond batch, he was to rush forward and capture them, while we camedown from above. Then we intended to row off and take the lugger. Therewas not wind enough for her to get away. 

"All was going well, and the men were just coming up the cliff with thetubs, when someone who had passed us on the cliff ran down shouting thealarm. We rushed down at once, but arrived too late. They showed fight, and kept us back till Fisher's party came up; but by that time theboats were afloat, and the smugglers managed to get in and carry themoff, in spite of us. We caught, as I tell you, some of the countrymen, and Fisher has taken them off to Weymouth, but most of them got away. There are several places where the cliff can be climbed by men who knowit, and I have no doubt half those fishermen you see there were engagedin the business. "

"Then the smuggler got away?" Mr. Wilks asked. 

"I don't know, " the lieutenant said shortly. "I had sent word toWeymouth, and I hope they will catch her in the offing. The lugger camedown this way first, but we made her out, and showed a blue light. Shemust have turned and gone back again, for this morning at daylight wemade her out to the east. The cutter was giving chase, and at first randown fast towards her. Then the smugglers got the wind, and the last wesaw of them they were running up the Channel, the cutter some threemiles astern. 

"I would give a couple of months' pay to know who it was that gave thealarm. I expect it was one of those fishermen. As far as my men couldmake out in the darkness, the fellow was dressed as a sailor. But Imust say good morning, for I am just going to turn in. "

Mr. Wilks had been on the point of mentioning that James was missing, but a vague idea that he might, in some way, be mixed up with theevents of the previous night, checked the question on his lips; and yethe thought, as the officer walked away, it was not probable. Had Jamesbeen foolish enough to take part in such a business, he would eitherhave been taken prisoner, or would, after he escaped, have returnedhome. He had evidently not been taken prisoner, or the officer wouldhave been sure to mention it. 

Much puzzled, he walked slowly back to the fishermen. Some of the boatshad already pushed off. He went up to three of the men, whose boat, being higher up than the rest, would not be afloat for another quarterof an hour. 

"Look here, lads, " he said. "My young friend Jim Walsham is missingthis morning, and hasn't been at home all night. As none of the fishingboats put out in the evening he cannot have gone to sea. Can any of youtell me anything about him?"

The men gave no answer. 

"You need not be afraid of speaking to me, you know, " he went on, "andit's no business of mine whether any of the men on the shore wereconcerned in that affair. The lieutenant has just been telling me oflast night; but hearing of that, and finding Jim is missing, I can'thelp thinking there is some connection between the two things. Nothingyou say to me will go further, that I can promise you; but the lad'smother will be in a terrible way. I can't make it out, for I know that, if he had anything to do with this smuggling business, he would havetold me. Again, if he was there and got away, he would naturally havecome straight home, for his absence would only throw suspicion uponhim. "

"Well, Mr. Wilks, " the youngest of the sailors said, "I don't knownothing about it myself. No one does, so far as I know, but I haveheard say this morning as how he was there or thereabouts; but don'tyou let out as I told you, 'cause they would want to know who I heardit from. "

"You can rely upon my silence, my lad, and here's half a guinea todrink my health between you. But can't you tell me a little more?"

"Well, sir, they do say as how it war Mr. Jim as came running down intothe middle of them on the beach, shouting the alarm, with the revenuemen close at his heels. I don't say as it were he--likely enough itweren't--but that's the talk, and that's all I have heared about thematter. How he came for to know of it, or how he got there, no oneknows, for sartin he has had nought to do with any landings afore. Hewas a lot among us, but I know as he never was told about it; for, though everyone would have trusted Jim, still, seeing how he wasplaced, with his mother up at the Hall, and the squire a magistrate, itwas thought better as he shouldn't be let into it. Everyone on theshore here likes Jim. "

"But if he was there, and he hasn't been taken prisoner--and I am surethe lieutenant would have told me if he was--why shouldn't he have gothome?"

"We didn't know as he hadn't got home, did us, Bill?" the fishermanappealed to one of his comrades. 

"No, " the other said. "We thought likely he had got safely away withthe rest. It war a dark night, and I expect as everyone was too busylooking after himself to notice about others. "

"He may have been wounded, " the old soldier said anxiously, "and may bein hiding in some house near the place. "

The fisherman was silent. Such a thing was, of course, possible. 

"He might that, " one of the sailors said doubtfully, "and yet I don'tthink it. The chase was a hot one, and I don't think anyone, wounded sobad as he couldn't make his way home, would have got away. I should sayas it wur more likely as he got on board one of the boats. It seems tome as though he might have come to warn us--that is to say, to warnthem, I mean--just to do em a good turn, as he was always ready to doif he had the chance. But he wouldn't have had anything to do with thescrimmage, and might have been standing, quiet like, near the boats, when the other lot came along the shore, and then, seeing as the gamewas up, he might, likely enough, have jumped on board and gone off tothe lugger. "

"That is possible, " Mr. Wilks said. "Anyhow, I will go off at once, andmake inquiries at all the houses within a mile or so of the landingplace. "

Chapter 8: Discharged. 

Contrary to his usual habits of punctuality, Mr. Wilks did not returnto luncheon at the Hall, and it was two hours later before he came in, looking fagged and anxious. He had been to all the farm houses withintwo miles of the scene of the fight, and had ascertained, for certain, that Jim was not lying wounded at any of them. At first, his inquirieshad everywhere been coldly received. There was scarce a farm house nearthe coast, but the occupants had relations with the smugglers, assisting with their carts and men at the landings, or having hidingplaces where goods could be stowed away. At first, therefore, allprofessed entire ignorance of the events of the previous night; but, when persuaded by the earnestness of the old soldier's manner that hismission was a friendly one, they became more communicative, and evenowned that some of their men had been taken prisoners and marched toWeymouth; but none of them had heard of any wounded man being inhiding. 

Convinced, at last, that James must have gone off to the lugger, Mr. Wilks returned to Sidmouth, a prey to great anxiety. Everythingdepended now on whether the lugger was captured. If so, James wouldhave to stand his trial for being concerned in the fight on the beach, and, as two of the revenue men had been killed, his sentence might be aheavy one. 

If she got away, all would be well. They would doubtless hear by letterfrom Jim, and it would be better that he should not return at presentto Sidmouth, but should at once take up his residence in London, andcommence his studies there. 

He met the squire just as the latter was starting for Sidmouth. 

"Well, Wilks, we began to think that you were lost, " he said, cheerfully. "Aggie was downstairs to lunch, and was mightily offendedthat you should not be there at her first appearance. 

"But you look tired and fagged. Has anything gone wrong?"

"Things have gone very wrong, squire. "

And he related to his friend all the news that he had gathered, and hisconviction that James Walsham was on board the lugger. 

"This is a pretty kettle of fish, " the squire said irritably. "What onearth did the boy mean by getting himself mixed up with such an affairas that?"

"It is a foolish business, squire, " the old soldier agreed. "But wecan't expect wise heads on young shoulders, I suppose. He, somehow orother, learnt the surprise which the revenue men intended, and as mostof his friends, the fishermen, would probably be concerned in it, hewent to give them notice, intending, no doubt, to go quietly back againbefore the revenue men arrived. I don't know that he's altogether to beblamed in the matter. Most young fellows would do the same. "

"Well, I suppose they would, " the squire agreed reluctantly; "but it isa most awkward business. If the lad gets caught, and gets two or threeyears' imprisonment, it will ruin his prospects in life. His motherwill be broken hearted over the business, and I am sure Aggie will takeit terribly to heart. They were great friends of old, though she hasn'tseen much of him for the last two or three years, and, of course, thataffair of the other day has made quite a hero of him. "

"We must hope the lugger will get safely over to France, " his companionsaid. "Then no great harm will have been done. "

"We must hope so, " the squire assented moodily. "Confound the youngjackanapes, turning everything upside down, and upsetting us all withhis mad-brain freaks. "

Mrs. Walsham was greatly distressed, when the news was broken to her byMr. Wilks, and Aggie cried so that the squire, at last, said she mustgo straight up to bed unless she stopped, for she would be makingherself ill again. When she was somewhat pacified, the matter wasdiscussed in every light, but the only conclusion to be arrived at was, that their sole hope rested in the hugger getting safely off. 

"Of course, my dear madam, " the squire said, "if they are taken I willdo my best to get a pardon for your son. I am afraid he will have tostand his trial with the rest; but I think that, with therepresentations I will make as to his good character, I may get amitigation, anyhow, of a sentence. If they find out that it was he whogave the alarm, there will be no hope of a pardon; but if that doesn'tcome out, one would represent his being there as a mere boyish freak ofadventure, and, in that case, I might get him a free pardon. You mustnot take the matter too seriously to heart. It was a foolish business, and that is the worst that can be said of it. "

"I think it was a grand thing, " Aggie said indignantly, "for him torisk being shot, and imprisoned, and all sorts of dreadful things, justto save other people. "

"And I think you are a goose, Aggie, " the squire said. "If everyonewere to go and mix themselves up in other people's business, therewould be no end of trouble. I suppose next you will say that, if youheard me arranging with the constable to make a capture of someburglars, you would think it a grand thing to put on your hat to runoff to warn them. "

"Oh, grandpapa, how can you say such a thing!" the girl said. "Burglarsand smugglers are quite different. Burglars are wicked men, and thievesand robbers. Smugglers are not, they are only trying to get goods inwithout paying duty. "

"They try to rob the king, my dear, and in the eyes of the law are justas criminal as burglars. Both of them are leagued to break the law, andboth will resist and take life if they are interfered with. I allowthat, in general estimation, the smugglers are looked upon in a morefavourable light, and that a great many people, who ought to knowbetter, are in league with them, but that does not alter the facts ofthe case. "

The girl did not argue the question, but the squire was perfectly awarethat he had in no way convinced her, and that her feeling, that JamesWalsham's action was a highly meritorious one, was in no way shaken. Itwas agreed that nothing was to be said about James's absence, and, after taking some refreshment, Mr. Wilks went down into Sidmouth again, to tell the girl at Mrs. Walsham's that she was not to gossip aboutJames being away. 

Three days later, a letter was received by the squire from RichardHorton. 

"I am taking the opportunity of writing a few lines to you, my dearuncle, as I have a chance of sending it ashore by the revenue cutterThistle, which is lying alongside of us. Between us, we have justcaptured a rascally smuggling lugger, with a cargo of lace, silk, andspirits. You will, I am sure, be surprised and grieved to hear thatamong the crew of the lugger was James Walsham. I could hardly believemy eyes, when I saw him in such disreputable company. It will be a sadblow for his poor mother. As we were short of hands, our captainoffered the crew of the lugger the choice of shipping with us, or beingsent on shore for trial. Most of them chose the former alternative, among them James Walsham, of which I was glad, as his mother will bespared the disgrace of his being placed in the dock with hisassociates. I need not say that if I could have obtained his release, Ishould have done so, knowing that you had a high opinion of him; but itwas, of course, out of my power to interfere. "

The squire was alone in his study when he received the letter, for itwas midday before the post arrived at Sidmouth, when a man from theHall went down each day, with a bag, to fetch the letters. He rang thebell, and ordered the servant to tell Mr. Wilks he should be glad if hewould step in to him. When his friend came, he handed him the letterwithout a word. 

"That settles the matter, " he said, as he threw the letter angrily downupon the table. "A malicious young viper! I wish I had him here. "

"It is not nicely worded, " the squire said gravely; "but it was anunpleasant story to have to tell. "

"It was not an unpleasant story for him to tell, " the old soldier saidhotly. "There is malice in every line of it. He speaks of the men asJames's associates, talks about the disgrace he would bring on hismother. There's malice, squire, in every line of it. "

"I'm afraid it's a bad letter, " the squire assented gravely. 

"It's a natural letter, " Mr. Wilks said savagely. "It is written in ahurry, and he's had no time to pick and choose his words, and round offhis sentences, as he generally does in his letters to you. He was sofull of malicious exultation that he did not think how much he wasshowing his feeling, as he wrote. "

"It's a bad letter and a nasty letter, " the squire assented; "but letthat pass, now. The first question is--How are we to tell Jim's mother?Do you think it will be a relief to her, or otherwise?"

"It will be a blow to know that the lugger has been captured, " Mr. Wilks said--"a severe blow, no doubt, for her escape is what we havebeen building our hopes upon. It will be a heavy blow, too, for her toknow that James is a seaman before the mast; that it will be yearsbefore she will see him again, and that all her plans for his futureare upset. But I think this will be much better for her than if sheknew he was a prisoner, and would have to stand a trial. 

"Between ourselves, squire, as far as the lad himself is concerned, Iam not sure that he will be altogether sorry that events have turnedout as they have. In our talks together, he has often confided to methat his own inclinations were altogether for a life of activity andadventure; but that, as his mother's heart was so set upon hisfollowing his father's profession, he had resolved upon never saying aword, to her, which would lead her to suppose that his own wishes layin any other direction. This business will give him the opportunity hehas longed for, to see the world, without his appearing in any way tothwart his mother's plans. "

"At any rate, " the squire said, "I am heartily glad he has got offbeing tried. Even if I had got a free pardon for him, it would havebeen a serious slur upon him that he had been imprisoned, and wouldhave been awkward for us all in the future. I think, Wilks, I willleave it to you to break it to his mother. "

"Very well, " the other agreed. "It is an unpleasant business, squire;but perhaps I had better do it. It may console her if I tell her that, at heart, he always wanted to go to sea, and that, accustomed as he isto knock about in the fishermen's boats, he will find it no hardship onboard a man o' war, and will come back, in the course of two or threeyears, none the worse for his cruise. She may think he will take updoctoring again after that, though I have my doubts whether he will dothat. However, there is no use in telling her so. Shall I show her thatletter, squire?"

"No, " the squire replied, "of course you can tell her what's in it; butI will keep the letter myself. I would give a good deal if he had notwritten it. It is certainly badly worded, though why he should feel anymalice, towards the other, is more than I can tell. "

His companion was about to speak, but thought better of it, and, without another word, went to break the news to Mrs. Walsham. 

Mrs. Walsham was terribly upset. After suffering her to cry for sometime in silence, Mr. Wilks said:

"My dear madam, I know that this news must distress you terribly; butit may be that in this, as in all things, a providence has overruledyour plans for your son, for his own good. I will tell you now what youwould never have known had this affair never occurred. Jim, at heart, hates his father's profession. He is a dutiful son and, rather thangive you pain, he was prepared to sacrifice all his own feelings andwishes. But the lad is full of life and energy. The dull existence of acountry surgeon, in a little town like this, is the last he would adoptas his own choice; and I own that I am not surprised that a lad ofspirit should long for a more adventurous life. I should have told youthis long ago, and advised you that it would be well for you both toput it frankly to him that, although you would naturally like to seehim following his father's profession, still that you felt that heshould choose for himself; and that, should he select any other mode oflife, you would not set your wishes against his. But the lad would nothear of my doing so. He said that, rather than upset your cherishedplans, he would gladly consent to settle down in Sidmouth for life. Ihonoured him for his filial spirit; but, frankly, I think he was wrong. An eagle is not made to live in a hen coop, nor a spirited lad tosettle down in a humdrum village; and I own that, although I regret themanner of his going, I cannot look upon it as an unmixed evil, that theforce of circumstances has taken him out of the course marked out forhim, and that he will have an opportunity of seeing life andadventure. "

Mrs. Walsham had listened, with a surprise too great to admit of herinterrupting the old soldier's remarks. 

"I never dreamed of this, " she said at last, when he ceased. "I cannotremember, now, that I ever asked him, but I took it for granted that hewould like nothing better than to follow in his father's steps. Had Iknown that he objected to it, I would not for a moment have forced himagainst his inclinations. Of course it is natural that, being alone inthe world, I should like to have him with me still, but I would neverhave been so selfish as to have sacrificed his life to mine. Still, though it would be hard to have parted from him in any way, it isharder still to part like this. If he was to go, he need not have goneas a common sailor. The squire, who has done so much for him, would nodoubt, instead of sending him to school, have obtained a midshipman'sberth for him, or a commission in the army; but it is dreadful to thinkof him as a common sailor, liable to be flogged. "

"Well, Mrs. Walsham, perhaps we may set the matter partly to rights. Iwill speak to the squire, and I am sure he will write to his friend atthe admiralty, and have an order sent out, at once, for Jim'sdischarge. At the same time, it would be better that he should notreturn here just at present. His name may come out, at the trial of thesmugglers, as being concerned in the affair, and it would be betterthat he should stay away, till that matter blows over. At any rate, ifI were you I should write to him, telling him that you know now that hehas no taste for the medical profession, and that, should he seeanything that he thinks will suit him in America, you would not wishhim to come home immediately, if he has a fancy for staying out there;but that, if he chooses to return, you are sure that the squire willexert himself, to give him a start in any other profession he maychoose. "

Mrs. Walsham agreed to carry out the suggestion and, that afternoon, the squire sent off a letter to his friend at the admiralty, and threeletters were also posted to James himself. 

The voyage of the Thetis was uneventful. Her destination was Hampton, at the opening of Chesapeake Bay, where the troops on board would jointhe expedition under General Braddock, which was advancing up thePotomac. When she arrived there, they found several ships of war underCommodore Keppel. Braddock's force had marched to Wills Creek, where amilitary post named Fort Cumberland had been formed. The soldiers onboard were at once disembarked, and marched up the banks of the Potomacto join the force at Fort Cumberland. The sailors were employed intaking stores up the river in boats. 

James Walsham had done his best, during the voyage, to acquire aknowledge of his duties. His experience in the fishing boats was usefulto him now, and he was soon able to do his work as an able-bodiedseaman. His good spirits and willingness rendered him a generalfavourite. He was glad that he was not put in the same watch withRichard Horton, as, after their first meeting, the young lieutenantshowed no signs of recognition. He was not, James found, popular amongthe men. He was exacting and overbearing with them, and some on board, who had served with him on his previous voyage, had many tales to hisdisadvantage. 

A fortnight after the arrival of the Thetis at Hampton, orders wereissued among the ships of war for thirty volunteers for Braddock'sexpedition, of which the Thetis was to furnish ten. So many sent intheir names, that the first lieutenant had difficulty in choosing ten, who were looked upon with envy by the rest of the ship's company; forthere seemed little chance, at present, of fighting at sea, and theexcitement of a march on shore, with adventures of all sorts, andencounters with the French and their Indian allies, seemed delightfulto the tars. 

Upon the following day a ship arrived from England and, an hourafterwards, an order was passed forward that the first lieutenantwanted James Walsham upon the quarterdeck. 

"Walsham, " he said, "an order has just come from the admiralty for yourdischarge, and you are to have a passage in the first ship returning, if you choose to take it. I am sorry you are leaving the ship, for Ihave noticed that you show great willingness and activity, and willmake a first-rate sailor. Still, I suppose, your friends in England didnot care about your remaining before the mast. "

James touched his hat and walked forward. He was scarcely surprised, for he had thought that his mother would probably ask the squire to usehis influence to obtain his discharge. He scarcely knew whether he wasglad or sorry. He was in a false position, and could not hope forpromotion except by some lucky chance, such as was not likely to occur, of distinguishing himself. 

At the same time, he sighed as he thought that he must now return andtake up the profession for which his mother had intended him. A quarterof an hour later, however, the ship's corporal came round anddistributed the mails, and James, to his delight, found there werethree letters for him. He tore open that from his mother. It began bygently upbraiding him for getting himself mixed up in the fight betweenthe smugglers and the revenue men. 

"In the next place, my dear boy, " she said, "I must scold you, evenmore, for not confiding in your mother as to your wishes about yourfuture profession. Mr. Wilks has opened my eyes to the fact that, whileI have all along been taking it for granted, that your wishes agreedwith mine as to your profession, you have really been sacrificing allyour own inclinations in order to avoid giving me pain. I am verythankful to him for having opened my eyes, for I should have beengrieved indeed had I found, when too late, that I had chained you downto a profession you dislike. 

"Of course, I should have liked to have had you with me, but in no casewould have had you sacrifice yourself; still less now, when I have metwith such kind friends, and am happy and comfortable in my life. Therefore, my boy, let us set aside at once all idea of your becoming adoctor. There is no occasion for you to choose, immediately, what youwill do. You are too old now to enter the royal navy, and it is wellthat, before you finally decide on a profession, you have theopportunity of seeing something of the world. 

"I inclose bank notes for a hundred pounds so that, if you like, youcan stay for a few weeks or months in the colonies, and then take yourpassage home from New York or Boston. By that time, too, all talk aboutthis affair with the smugglers will have ceased; but, as your name islikely to come out at the trial of the men who were taken, so thesquire thinks it will be better for you to keep away, for a time. "

The rest of the letter was filled up with an account of the excitementand alarm which had been felt when he was first missed. 

"We were glad, indeed, " she said, "when a letter was received fromRichard Horton, saying that you were on board the Thetis. Mr. Wilkstells me it was an abominably spiteful letter, and I am sure the squirethinks so, too, from the tone in which he spoke this afternoon abouthis nephew; but I can quite forgive him, for, if it had not been forhis letter, we should not have known what had become of you, and manymonths might have passed before we might have heard from you inAmerica. As it is, only four or five days have been lost, and thesquire is writing tonight to obtain your discharge, which he assures methere will be no difficulty whatever about. "

The squire's was a very cordial letter, and he, too, enclosed notes fora hundred pounds. 

"Mr. Wilks tells me, " he said, "that you do not like the thought ofdoctoring. I am not surprised, and I think that a young fellow, of suchspirit and courage as you have shown, ought to be fitted for somethingbetter than administering pills and draughts to the old women ofSidmouth. Tell me frankly, when you write, what you would like. Youare, of course, too old for the royal navy. If you like to enter themerchant service, I have no doubt I could arrange with some shippingfirm in Bristol, and would take care that, by the time you get to becaptain, you should also be part owner of the ship. If, on the otherhand, you would like to enter the army--and it seems to me that thereare stirring times approaching--I think that, through one or other ofmy friends in London, I could obtain a commission for you. If there isanything else you would like better than this, you may command my bestservices. I never forget how much I am indebted to you for my presenthappiness, and, whatever I can do for you, still shall feel myselfdeeply your debtor. "

The old soldier wrote a characteristic letter. In the first place, hetold James that he regarded him as a fool, for mixing up in an affairin which he had no concern whatever. Then he congratulated him on thefact that circumstances had broken the chain from which he would neverotherwise have freed himself. 

"You must not be angry with me, " he said, "for having betrayed yourconfidence, and told the truth to your mother. I did it in order toconsole her, by showing her that things were, after all, for the best;and I must say that madam took my news in the very best spirit, and Iam sure you will see this by her letter to you. There is no one Ihonour and esteem more than I do her, and I was sure, all along, thatyou were making a mistake in not telling her frankly what your wisheswere. Now you have got a roving commission for a time, and it will beyour own fault if you don't make the best of it. There is likely to bean exciting time in the colonies, and you are not the lad I take youfor, if you dawdle away your time in the towns, instead of seeing whatis going on in the forest. "

These letters filled James with delight, and, without an hour's delay, he sat down to answer them. In his letter to the squire he thanked himmost warmly for his kindness, and said that, above all things, heshould like a commission in the army. He wrote a very tender andaffectionate letter to his mother, telling her how much he felt hergoodness in so promptly relinquishing her own plans, and in allowinghim to choose the life he liked. 

"Thank Aggie, " he concluded, "for the message she sent by you. Give hermy love, and don't let her forget me. "

To the old soldier he wrote a gossipping account of his voyage. 

"It was impossible, " he said, "for the news of my discharge to havecome at a better moment. Thirty sailors from the fleet are going withGeneral Braddock's force, and everyone else is envying their goodluck--I among them. Now I shall go up, at once, and join the Virginianregiment which is accompanying them. I shall join that, instead ofeither of the line regiments, as I can leave when I like. Besides, ifthe squire is able to get me a commission, it would have beenpleasanter for me to have been fighting here as a volunteer, than as aprivate in the line. 

"By the way, nobody thinks there will be much fighting, so don't let mymother worry herself about me; but, at any rate, a march through thegreat forests of this country, with a chance of a brush with theredskins, will be great fun. Perhaps, by the time it is over, I may geta letter from you saying that I have got my commission. As I hear thereis a chance of a regular war between the French and us out here, thecommission may be for a regiment on this side. "

After finishing his letters, and giving them to the ship's corporal toplace in the next post bag, James said goodbye to his messmates, andprepared to go on shore. The ten men chosen for the expedition werealso on the point of starting. Richard Horton was standing near, in astate of great discontent that he had not been chosen to accompany themin their expedition. James Walsham stepped up to him, and touched hishat respectfully. 

"I wish to thank you, Lieutenant Horton, for your extremely kindletter, telling my friends that I was on board this ship. It has beenthe means of my obtaining my discharge at once, instead of having toserve, for many months, before I could send the news home and obtain ananswer in return. "

Without another word he turned and, walking to the gangway, took hisplace in a boat about starting with some sailors for the shore, leavingRichard Horton in a state of fury, with himself, for having been themeans of obtaining James's discharge. He had already, more than once, felt uncomfortable as he thought of the wording of the letter; and thatthis indulgence of his spite had had the effect of restoring James'sliberty, rendered him well-nigh mad with rage. 

On landing, James Walsham at once disposed of his sailor's clothes, andpurchased a suit similar to those worn by the colonists; then heobtained a passage up the river to Alexandria, where the transportswhich had brought the troops were still lying. Here, one of thecompanies of the Virginia corps was stationed, and James, finding thatthey were expecting, every day, to be ordered up to Wills Creek, determined to join them at once. 

The scene was a busy one. Stores were being landed from the transports, teamsters were loading up their waggons, officers were superintendingthe operations, the men of the Virginia corps, who wore no uniform, butwere attired in the costume used by hunters and backwoodsmen; namely, aloose hunting shirt, short trousers or breeches, and gaiters; weremoving about unconcernedly, while a few of them, musket on shoulder, were on guard over the piles of stores. 

Presently a tall, slightly-built young man, with a pleasant butresolute face, came riding along, and checked his horse close to whereJames was standing. James noticed that the men on sentry, who had, forthe most part, been sitting down on fallen logs of wood, bales, oranything else which came handy; with their muskets across their knees, or leaning beside them; got up and began pacing to and fro, with somesemblance of military position. 

"Who is that young man?" he asked a teamster standing by. 

"That is Colonel Washington, " the man replied, "one of the smartest ofthe colonial officers. "

"Why, he only looks two or three and twenty, " James said in surprise. 

"He is not more than that, " the man said; "but age don't go for muchhere, and Colonel Washington is adjutant general of the Virginianmilitia. Only a few months back, he made a journey with despatches, right through the forests to the French station at Port de Beuf, and, since then, he has been in command of the party which went out to builda fort, at the forks of the Ohio, and had some sharp fighting with theFrench. A wonderful smart young officer they say he is, just as cool, when the bullets are flying, as if sitting on horseback. "

James resolved, at once, that he would speak to Colonel Washington, andask him if he could join the Virginian militia. He accordingly went upto him, and touched his hat. 

"If you please, sir, I am anxious to join the Virginian militia, and, as they tell me that you are adjutant general, I have come to ask youif I can do so. "

"I see no difficulty in it, my lad, " the colonel said; "but if you haverun away from home, in search of adventure, I should advise you to goback again, for we are likely to have heavy work. "

"I don't mind that, sir, and I have not run away. I am English. I waspressed on board a frigate, and was brought over here, but my friendsin England procured my discharge, which came for me here, a fortnightafter my arrival. They are, I believe, about to obtain for me acommission in a king's regiment; but, as I was here, I thought that Ishould like to see some service, as it may be some months before I hearthat I have got my commission. I would rather if I could join as avolunteer, as I do not want pay, my friends having supplied me amplywith money. "

"You seem to be a lad of spirit, " Colonel Washington said, "and I willat once put you in the way of doing what you desire. You shall join theVirginian corps as a volunteer. Have you money enough to buy a horse?"

"Yes, plenty, " Jim said. "I have two hundred pounds. "

"Then you had better leave a hundred and fifty, at least, behind you, "the colonel said. "I will direct you to a trader here, with whom youcan bank it. You can get an excellent horse for twenty pounds. I askedyou because, if you like, I can attach you to myself. I often want amounted messenger; and, of course, as a volunteer, you would mess withme. "

"I should like it above all things, " James said thankfully. 

"Then we will at once go to the tent of the officer commanding thiscompany, " Washington said, "and enroll you as a volunteer. "

On reaching the tent, Washington dismounted and led the way in. 

"Captain Hall, " he said, "this is a young English gentleman, who willshortly have a commission in the king's army, but, in the meantime, hewishes to see a little brisk fighting, so he is to be enrolled as avolunteer in your company; but he is going to obtain a horse, and willact as a sort of aide-de-camp to me. "

Captain Hall at once entered James's name as a volunteer on the roll ofhis company. 

"Do you know of anyone who has a good horse for sale?" Washingtonasked. 

"Yes, " the captain replied, "at least, there was a farmer here half anhour ago with a good-looking horse which he wants to sell. I have nodoubt he is in the camp, still. "

Captain Hall went to the door of the tent, and told two of the menthere to find the farmer, and tell him he had a purchaser for hishorse. 

Ten minutes later the farmer came up, and James bought the horse, Captain Hall doing the bargaining for him. 

"Now, " Washington said, "we will go round to the storekeeper I spokeof, and deposit the best part of your money with him. I should onlytake a pound or two, if I were you, for you will find no means ofspending money when you once set forward, and, should anything happento you, the Indians would not appreciate the value of those Englishnotes of yours. You will want a brace of pistols and a sword, ablanket, and cooking pot--that is about the extent of your campequipment. "

Chapter 9: The Defeat Of Braddock. 

England and France were, at this time, at peace in Europe, although thetroops of both nations were about to engage in conflict, in the forestsof America. Their position there was an anomalous one. England ownedthe belt of colonies on the east coast. France was mistress of Canadain the north, of Louisiana in the south, and, moreover, claimed thewhole of the vast country lying behind the British colonies, which werethus cooped up on the seaboard. Her hold, however, of this greatterritory was extremely slight. She had strong posts along the chain oflakes from the Saint Lawrence to Lake Superior, but between these andLouisiana, her supremacy was little more than nominal. 

The Canadian population were frugal and hardy, but they were deficientin enterprise; and the priests, who ruled them with a rod of iron, forCanada was intensely Catholic, discouraged any movements which wouldtake their flocks from under their charge. Upon the other hand, thecolonists of New England, Pennsylvania, and Virginia were men ofenterprise and energy, and their traders, pushing in large numbersacross the Alleghenies, carried on an extensive trade with the Indiansin the valley of the Ohio, thereby greatly exciting the jealousy of theFrench, who feared that the Indians would ally themselves with theBritish colonists, and that the connection between Canada and Louisianawould be thereby cut. 

The English colonists were greatly superior to the French in number;but they laboured under the disadvantage that the colonies were whollyindependent of each other, with strong mutual jealousies, whichparalysed their action and prevented their embarking upon any concertedoperations. Upon the other hand, Canada was governed by the French as amilitary colony. The governor was practically absolute, and every mancapable of bearing arms could, if necessary, be called by him into thefield. He had at his disposal not only the wealth of the colony, butlarge assistance from France, and the French agents were, therefore, able to outbid the agents of the British colonies with the Indians. 

For years there had been occasional troubles between the New EnglandStates and the French, the latter employing the Indians in harassingthe border; but, until the middle of the eighteenth century, there hadbeen nothing like a general trouble. In 1749 the Marquis ofGalissoniere was governor general of Canada. The treaty of Aix laChapelle had been signed; but this had done nothing to settle the vexedquestion of the boundaries between the English and French colonies. Meanwhile, the English traders from Pennsylvania and Virginia werepoaching on the domain which France claimed as hers, ruining the Frenchfur trade, and making friends with the Indian allies of Canada. Worsestill, farmers were pushing westward and settling in the valley of theOhio. 

In order to drive these back, to impress the natives with the power ofFrance, and to bring them back to their allegiance, the governor ofCanada, in the summer of 1749, sent Celoron de Bienville. He had withhim fourteen officers, twenty French soldiers, a hundred and eightyCanadians, and a band of Indians. They embarked in twenty-threebirch-bark canoes, and, pushing up the Saint Lawrence, reached LakeOntario, stopping for a time at the French fort of Frontenac, andavoiding the rival English port of Oswego on the southern shore, wherea trade in beaver skins, disastrous to French interests, was beingcarried on, for the English traders sold their goods at vastly lowerprices than those which the French had charged. 

On the 6th of July the party reached Niagara, where there was a smallFrench fort, and thence, carrying their canoes round the cataract, launched them upon Lake Erie. Landing again on the southern shore ofthe lake, they carried their canoes nine miles through the forest toChautauqua Lake, and then dropped down the stream running out of ituntil they reached the Ohio. The fertile country here was inhabited bythe Delawares, Shawanoes, Wyandots, and Iroquois, or Indians of theFive Nations, who had migrated thither from their original territoriesin the colony of New York. Further west, on the banks of the Miami, theWabash, and other streams, was a confederacy of the Miami and theirkindred tribes. Still further west, in the country of the Illinois, near the Mississippi, the French had a strong stone fort called FortChartres, which formed one of the chief links of the chain of poststhat connected Quebec with New Orleans. 

The French missionaries and the French political agents had, forseventy years, laboured hard to bring these Indian tribes into closeconnection with France. The missionaries had failed signally; but thepresents, so lavishly bestowed, had inclined the tribes to the side oftheir donors, until the English traders with their cheap goods camepushing west over the Alleghenies. They carried their goods on thebacks of horses, and journeyed from village to village, selling powder, rum, calicoes, beads, and trinkets. No less than three hundred men wereengaged in these enterprises, and some of them pushed as far west asthe Mississippi. 

As the party of Celoron proceeded they nailed plates of tin, stampedwith the arms of France, to trees; and buried plates of lead near them, with inscriptions saying that they took possession of the land in thename of Louis the Fifteenth, King of France. 

Many of the villages were found to be deserted by the natives, who fledat their approach. At some, however, they found English traders, whowere warned at once to leave the country; and, by some of them, letterswere sent to the governor of Pennsylvania, in which Celoron declaredthat he was greatly surprised to find Englishmen trespassing in thedomain of France, and that his orders were precise, to leave no foreigntraders within the limits of the government of Canada. 

At Chiningue, called Logstown by the English, a large number of nativeswere gathered, most of the inhabitants of the deserted villages havingsought refuge there. The French were received with a volley of ballsfrom the shore; but they landed without replying to the fire, andhostilities were avoided. The French kept guard all night, and in themorning Celoron invited the chiefs to a council, when he told them hehad come, by the order of the governor, to open their eyes to thedesigns of the English against their lands, and that they must bedriven away at once. The reply of the chiefs was humble; but theybegged that the English traders, of whom there were, at that moment, ten in the town, might stay a little longer, since the goods theybrought were necessary to them. 

After making presents to the chiefs, the party proceeded on their way, putting up the coats of arms and burying the lead inscriptions. AtScioto a large number of Indians were assembled, and the French werevery apprehensive of an attack, which would doubtless have beendisastrous to them, as the Canadians of the party were altogetherunused to war. A council was held, however, at which Celoron couldobtain no satisfaction whatever, for the interests of the Indians werebound up with the English. 

There can be no doubt that, had they been able to look into the future, every Indian on the continent would have joined the French in theireffort to crush the English colonies. Had France remained master ofAmerica the Indians might, even now, be roaming free and unmolested onthe lands of their forefathers. France is not a colonizing nation. Shewould have traded with the Indians, would have endeavoured toChristianize them, and would have left them their land and freedom, well satisfied with the fact that the flag of France should wave overso vast an extent of country; but on England conquering the soil, herarmies of emigrants pressed west, and the red man is fast becomingextinct on the continent of which he was once the lord. 

Celoron's expedition sailed down the Ohio until it reached the mouth ofthe Miami, and toiled for thirteen days against its shallow current, until they reached a village of the Miami Indians, ruled over by achief called, by the French, La Demoiselle, but whom the English, whosefast friend he was, called Old Britain. He was the great chief of theMiami confederation. 

The English traders there withdrew at the approach of the French. Theusual council was held, and Celoron urged the chief to remove from thislocation, which he had but newly adopted, and to take up his abode, with his band, near the French fort on the Maumee. The chief acceptedthe Frenchman's gifts, thanked him for his good advice, and promised tofollow it at a more convenient time; but neither promises nor threatscould induce him to stir at once. 

No sooner, indeed, had the French departed, than the chief gathered thegreater part of the members of the confederation on that spot; until, in less than two years after the visit of Celoron, its population hadincreased eightfold, and it became one of the greatest Indian towns ofthe west, and the centre of English trade and influence. 

Celoron reached Miami, and then returned northward to Lake Erie, andthence back to Montreal, when he reported to the governor that Englishinfluence was supreme in the valley of the Ohio. 

In the following year, a company was formed in Virginia for effecting asettlement in Ohio, and a party proceeded west to the village of thechief called Old Britain, by whom they were received with greatfriendship, and a treaty of peace was solemnly made between the Englishand the Indians. While the festivities, consequent on the affair, weregoing on, four Ottawa Indians arrived from the French, with the Frenchflag and gifts, but they were dismissed with an answer of defiance. If, at this time, the colonists could have cemented their alliance with theIndians, with gifts similar to those with which the French endeavouredto purchase their friendship, a permanent peace with the Indians mighthave been established; but the mutual jealousies of the colonies, andthe nature of the various colonial assemblies, rendered any commonaction impossible. Pennsylvania was jealous of the westward advance ofVirginia, and desired to thwart rather than to assist her. 

The governors of New York, Pennsylvania, and Virginia were fullyconscious of the importance of the Indian alliance, but they could donothing without their assemblies. Those of New York and Pennsylvaniawere largely composed of tradesmen and farmers, absorbed in localinterests, and animated but by two motives; the cutting down of allexpenditure, and bitter and continuous opposition to the governor, whorepresented the royal authority. Virginia and Pennsylvania quarrelledabout their respective rights over the valley of the Ohio. The assemblyof New York refused to join in any common action, saying, "We will takecare of our Indians, and they may take care of theirs. "

The states further removed from the fear of any danger, from the actionof the Indians and French, were altogether lukewarm. 

Thus, neither in the valley of the Ohio, nor on the boundaries of theNew England states, did the Indians receive their promised gifts, and, as the French agents were liberal both in presents and promises, theIndians became discontented with their new friends, and again turnedtheir eyes towards France. Old Britain, however, remained firm in hisalliance; and the English traders, by constant presents, and by sellingtheir goods at the lowest possible rates, kept him and his warriorshighly satisfied and contented. 

The French, in vain, tried to stir up the friendly tribes to attackOswego on Lake Ontario, and the village of Old Britain, which were thetwo centres to which the Indians went to trade with the English; butthey were unsuccessful until, in June, 1752, Charles Langlade, a youngFrench trader, married to a squaw at Green Bay, and strong in influencewith the tribes of that region, came down the lakes with a fleet ofcanoes, manned by two hundred and fifty Ottawa and Ojibwa warriors. They stopped awhile at the fort at Detroit, then paddled up the Maumeeto the next fort, and thence marched through the forests against theMiamis. 

They approached Old Britain's village in the morning. Most of theIndians were away on their summer hunt, and there were but eightEnglish traders in the place. Three of these were caught outside thevillage, the remaining five took refuge in the fortified warehouse theyhad built, and there defended themselves. 

Old Britain and the little band with him fought bravely, but againstsuch overwhelming numbers could do nothing, and fourteen of them, including their chief, were killed. The five white men defendedthemselves till the afternoon, when two of them managed to make theirescape, and the other three surrendered. One of them was alreadywounded, and was at once killed by the French Indians. Seventy years ofthe teaching of the French missionaries had not weaned the latter fromcannibalism, and Old Britain was boiled and eaten. 

The Marquis of Duquesne, who had succeeded Galissoniere as governor, highly praised Langlade for the enterprise, and recommended him to theminister at home for reward. This bold enterprise further shook thealliance of the Indians with the English, for it seemed to them thatthe French were enterprising and energetic, while the English wereslothful and cowardly, and neglected to keep their agreements. TheFrench continued to build forts, and Dinwiddie, governor of Virginia, sent George Washington to protest, in his name, against their buildingforts on land notoriously belonging to the English crown. 

Washington performed the long and toilsome journey through the forestsat no slight risks, and delivered his message at the forts, but nothingcame of it. The governor of Virginia, seeing the approaching danger, made the greatest efforts to induce the other colonies to join incommon action; but North Carolina, alone, answered the appeal, and gavemoney enough to raise three or four hundred men. Two independentcompanies maintained by England in New York, and one in South Carolina, received orders to march to Virginia. The governor had raised, withgreat difficulty, three hundred men. They were called the VirginiaRegiment. An English gentleman named Joshua Fry was appointed thecolonel, and Washington their major. 

Fry was at Alexandria, on the Potomac, with half the regiment. Washington, with the other half, had pushed forward to the storehouseat Wills Creek, which was to form the base of operations. Besidesthese, Captain Trent, with a band of backwoodsmen, had crossed themountain to build a fort at the forks of the Ohio, where Pittsburgh nowstands. 

Trent had gone back to Wills Creek, leaving Ensign Ward, with fortymen, at work upon the fort, when, on the 17th of April, a swarm ofcanoes came down the Allegheny, with over five hundred Frenchmen, whoplanted cannon against the unfinished stockade, and summoned the ensignto surrender. He had no recourse but to submit, and was allowed todepart, with his men, across the mountains. 

The French at once set to, to build a strong fort, which they namedFort Duquesne. While the governor of Virginia had been toiling, invain, to get the colonists to move, the French had acted promptly, andthe erection of their new fort at once covered their line ofcommunication to the west, barred the advance of the English down theOhio valley, and secured the allegiance of all the wavering Indiantribes. 

Although war had not yet been declared between England and France, thecolonists, after this seizure, by French soldiers, of a fort over whichthe English flag was flying, henceforth acted as if the two powers wereat war. Washington moved forward from Wills Creek with his hundred andfifty men, and surprised a French force which had gone out scouting. Several of the French were killed, and the commander of Fort Duquesnesent despatches to France to say that he had sent this party out with acommunication to Washington, and that they had been treacherouslyassassinated. 

This obscure skirmish was the commencement of a war which set twocontinents on fire. Colonel Fry died a few days after this fight, andWashington succeeded to the command of the regiment, and collected histhree hundred men at Green Meadow, where he was joined by a fewIndians, and by a company from South Carolina. 

The French at Duquesne were quickly reinforced, and the command wasgiven to Coulon de Villiers, the brother of an officer who had beenkilled in the skirmish with Washington. He at once advanced against theEnglish, who had fallen back to a rough breastwork which they calledFort Necessity, Washington having but four hundred men, against fivehundred French and as many Indians. 

For nine hours the French kept up a hot fire on the intrenchment, butwithout success, and at nightfall Villiers proposed a parley. TheFrench ammunition was running short, the men were fatigued by theirmarches, and drenched by the rain which had been falling the whole day. The English were in a still worse plight. Their powder was nearlyspent, their guns were foul, and among them they had but two cleaningrods. 

After a parley, it was agreed that the English should march off withdrums beating and the honours of war, carrying with them all theirproperty; that the prisoners taken in the previous affair should be setfree, two officers remaining with the French as hostages until theywere handed over. 

Washington and his men arrived, utterly worn out with fatigue andfamine, at Wills Creek. This action left the French masters of thewhole country beyond the Alleghenies. 

The two mother nations were now preparing for war, and, in the middleof January, 1755, Major General Braddock, with the 44th and 48thRegiments, each five hundred strong, sailed from Cork for Virginia;while the French sent eighteen ships of war and six battalions toCanada. 

Admiral Boscawen, with eleven ships of the line and one frigate, setout to intercept the French expedition. The greater part of the fleetevaded him, but he came up with three of the French men of war, openedfire upon them, and captured them. Up to this time a pretence ofnegotiations had been maintained between England and France, but thecapture of the French ships brought the negotiations to a sudden end, and the war began. 

A worse selection than that of Major General Braddock could hardly havebeen made. He was a brave officer and a good soldier, but he was rough, coarse, and obstinate. He utterly despised the colonial troops, andregarded all methods of fighting, save those pursued by regular armiesin the field, with absolute contempt. To send such a man to commandtroops destined to fight in thick forests, against an enemy skilled inwarfare of that kind, was to court defeat. 

As might be expected, Braddock was very soon on the worst possibleterms with the whole of the colonial authorities, and the delays causedby the indecision or obstinacy of the colonial assemblies chafed him tomadness. At last, however, his force was assembled at Wills Creek. Thetwo English regiments had been raised, by enlistment in Virginia, to700 men each. There were nine Virginian companies of fifty men, and thethirty sailors lent by Commodore Keppel. General Braddock had threeaides-de-camp--Captain Robert Orme, Captain Roger Morris, and ColonelGeorge Washington. 

It was the 1st of June, when James Walsham rode with Colonel Washingtoninto the camp, and, three days later, the last companies of theVirginian corps marched in. During the next week, some of the Englishofficers attempted to drill the Virginians in the manner of Englishtroops. 

"It is a waste of time, " Colonel Washington said to James, one day, when he was watching them, "and worse. These men can fight their ownway. Most of them are good shots, and have a fair idea of forestfighting; let them go their own way, and they can be trusted to holdtheir own against at least an equal number of French and Indians; butthey would be hopelessly at sea if they were called upon to fight likeEnglish regulars. Most likely the enemy will attack us in the forest, and what good will forming in line, or wheeling on a flank, or any ofthe things which the general is trying to drum into their heads, do tothem? If the French are foolish enough to wait at Fort Duquesne untilwe arrive, I have no doubt we shall beat them, but if they attack us inthe woods it will go hard with us. "

During the ten days which elapsed between his arrival and the start, James was kept hard at work, being for the most part employed gallopingup and down the road, urging up the waggoners, and bringing backreports as to their position and progress. On the 10th of June the armystarted; 300 axemen led the way, cutting and clearing the road; thelong train of pack horses, waggons, and cannon followed; the troopsmarched in the forest on either side, while men were thrown out on theflanks, and scouts ranged the woods to guard against surprise. 

The road was cut but twelve feet wide, and the line of march oftenextended four miles. Thus, day by day they toiled on, crossing theAllegheny Mountains, range after range; now plunging down into aravine, now ascending a ridge, but always in the deep shadow of theforest. A few of the enemy hovered round them, occasionally killing astraggler who fell behind. 

On the 18th of June, the army reached a place called the LittleMeadows. So weak were the horses, from want of forage, that the lastmarches had been but three miles a day, and, upon Washington's advice, Braddock determined to leave the heavy baggage here, with the sick menand a strong guard under Colonel Dunbar; while he advanced with 1200men, besides officers and drivers. 

But the progress was still no more than three miles a day, and it wasnot until the 7th of July that they arrived within eight miles of theFrench fort. Between them lay, however, an extremely difficult countrywith a narrow defile, and Braddock determined to ford the Monongahela, and then cross it again lower down. 

The garrison of Fort Duquesne consisted of a few companies of regulartroops, some hundreds of Canadians, and 800 Indian warriors. They werekept informed, by the scouts, of the progress of the English, and, whenthe latter approached the Monongahela, a party under Captain Beaujeuset out to meet them. His force consisted of 637 Indians, 100 Frenchofficers and soldiers, and 146 Canadians, in all about 900 men. 

At one o'clock in the day, Braddock crossed the Monongahela for thesecond time. The troops had, all the day, been expecting the attack andhad prepared for it. At the second ford the army marched in martialorder, with music playing and flags flying. Once across the river theyhalted for a short time, and then again continued their advance. 

Braddock made every disposition for preventing a surprise. Severalguides, with six Virginian light horsemen, led the way. Then came theadvanced column, consisting of 300 soldiers under Gage, and a largebody of axemen, under Sir John Sinclair, with two cannon. The main bodyfollowed close behind. The artillery and waggons moved along the road, the troops marched through the woods on either hand, numerous flankingparties were thrown out a hundred yards or more right and left, and, inthe space between them and the line of troops, the pack horses andcattle made their way, as they best could, among the trees. 

Beaujeu had intended to place his men in ambuscade at the ford, but, owing to various delays caused by the Indians, he was still a mile awayfrom the ford when the British crossed. He was marching forward when hecame suddenly upon the little party of guides and Virginian lighthorsemen. These at once fell back. The Indians raised their war whoop, and, spreading right and left among the trees, opened a sharp fire uponthe British. 

Gage's column wheeled deliberately into line, and fired volley aftervolley, with great steadiness, at the invisible opponents. The greaterpart of the Canadians bolted at once, but the Indians kept up theirfire from behind the shelter of the trees. Gage brought up his twocannon and opened fire, and the Indians, who had a horror of artillery, began also to fall back. 

The English advanced in regular lines, cheering loudly. Beaujeu felldead; but Captain Dumas, who succeeded him in command, advanced at thehead of his small party of French soldiers, and opened a heavy fire. 

The Indians, encouraged by the example, rallied and again came forward, and, while the French regulars and the few Canadians who had not fledheld the ground in front of the column, the Indians swarmed through theforests along both flanks of the English, and from behind trees, bushes, and rocks opened a withering fire upon them. The troops, bewildered and amazed by the fire poured into them by an invisible foe, and by the wild war whoops of the Indians, ceased to advance, and, standing close together, poured fruitlessly volley after volley intothe surrounding forest. 

On hearing the firing, Braddock, leaving 400 men in the rear under SirPeter Halket, to guard the baggage, advanced with the main body tosupport Gage; but, just as he came up, the soldiers, appalled by thefire which was mowing them down in scores, abandoned their cannon andfell back in confusion. This threw the advancing force into disorder, and the two regiments became mixed together, massed in several densebodies within a small space of ground, facing some one way and someanother, all alike exposed, without shelter, to the hail of bullets. 

Men and officers were alike new to warfare like this. They had beentaught to fight in line against solid masses of the enemy, and againstan invisible foe like the present they were helpless. The Virginiansalone were equal to the emergency. They at once adopted their familiarforest tactics, and, taking their post behind trees, began to fight theIndians in their own way. 

Had Braddock been a man of judgment and temper, the fortunes of the daymight yet have been retrieved, for the Virginians could have checkedthe Indians until the English troops were rallied and prepared to meetthe difficulty; but, to Braddock, the idea of men fighting behind treeswas at once cowardly and opposed to all military discipline, and hedashed forward on his horse, and with fierce oaths ordered theVirginians to form line. A body of them, however, under CaptainWaggoner, made a dash for a huge fallen tree, far out towards thelurking places of the Indians, and, crouching behind it, opened fireupon them; but the regulars, seeing the smoke among the bushes, tookthem for the enemy and, firing, killed many and forced the rest toreturn. 

A few of the soldiers tried to imitate the Indians, and fight behindthe trees, but Braddock beat them back with the flat of his sword, andforced them to stand with the others, who were now huddled in a mass, forming a target for the enemy's bullets. Lieutenant Colonel Burton led100 of them towards a knoll from which the puffs came thickest, but hefell wounded, and his men, on whom the enemy instantly concentratedtheir fire, fell back. The soldiers, powerless against the unseen foe, for afterwards some of the officers and men who escaped declared that, throughout the whole fight, they had not seen a single Indian, discharged their guns aimlessly among the trees. 

They were half stupefied now with the terror and confusion of thescene, the rain of bullets, the wild yells which burst ceaselessly fromtheir 600 savage foemen; while the horses, wild with terror and wounds, added to the confusion by dashing madly hither and thither. Braddockbehaved with furious intrepidity. He dashed hither and thither, shouting and storming at the men, and striving to get them in order, and to lead them to attack the enemy. Four horses were, one after theother, shot under him. His officers behaved with equal courage and selfdevotion, and in vain attempted to lead on the men, sometimes advancingin parties towards the Indians, in hopes that the soldiers would followthem. Sir Peter Halket was killed, Horne and Morris, the twoaides-de-camp, Sinclair the quartermaster general, Gates, Gage, andGladwin were wounded. Of 86 officers, 63 were killed or disabled, whileof non-commissioned officers and privates only 459 came off unharmed. 

James Walsham had been riding by the side of Washington when the fightbegan, and followed him closely as he galloped among the troops, tryingto rally and lead them forward. Washington's horse was pierced by aball and, staggering, fell. James leaped from his horse and gave it tothe colonel, and then, seeing that there was nothing for him to do, withdrew a short distance from the crowd of soldiers, and crouched downbetween the trunks of two great trees growing close to each other; oneof which protected him, for the most part, from the fire of theIndians, and the other from the not less dangerous fire of the English. Presently, seeing a soldier fall at a short distance from him, he ranout and picked up his musket and cartridge box, and began to fire atthe bushes where the puffs of smoke showed that men were in hiding. 

After three hours' passive endurance of this terrible fire, Braddock, seeing that all was lost, commanded a retreat, and he and such officersas were left strove to draw off the soldiers in some semblance oforder; but at this moment a bullet struck him, and, passing through hisarm, penetrated his lungs, and he fell from his horse. He demanded tobe left where he lay, but Captain Stewart of the Virginians, and one ofhis men, bore him between them to the rear. 

The soldiers had now spent all their ammunition, and, no longer kept intheir places by their general, broke away in a wild panic. Washington'ssecond horse had now been shot, and as, trying to check the men, hepassed the trees where James had taken up his position, the latterjoined him. 

In vain Washington and his other officers tried to rally the men at theford. They dashed across it, wild with fear, leaving their woundedcomrades, cannon, baggage, and military chest a prey to the Indians. 

Fortunately, only about fifty of the Indians followed as far as theford, the rest being occupied in killing the wounded and scalping thedead. Dumas, who had now but twenty Frenchmen left, fell back to thefort, and the remnants of Braddock's force continued the flightunmolested. 

Chapter 10: The Fight At Lake George. 

Fortunate was it, for the remnant of Braddock's force, that the Indianswere too much occupied in gathering the abundant harvest of scalps, tooanxious to return to the fort to exhibit these trophies of theirbravery, to press on in pursuit; for, had they done so, few indeed ofthe panic-stricken fugitives would ever have lived to tell the tale. All night these continued their flight, expecting every moment to hearthe dreaded war whoop burst out again in the woods round them. 

Colonel Washington had been ordered, by the dying general, to press onon horseback to the camp of Dunbar, and to tell him to forward waggons, provisions, and ammunition; but the panic, which had seized the mainforce, had already been spread by flying teamsters to Dunbar's camp. Many soldiers and waggoners at once took flight, and the panic washeightened when the remnants of Braddock's force arrived. There was noreason to suppose that they were pursued, and even had they been so, their force was ample to repel any attack that could be made upon it;but probably their commander saw that, in their present state of utterdemoralization, they could not be trusted to fight, and that the firstIndian war whoop would start them again in flight. Still, it was clearthat a retreat would leave the whole border open to the ravages of theIndians, and Colonel Dunbar was greatly blamed for the course he took. 

A hundred waggons were burned, the cannon and shells burst, and thebarrels of powder emptied into the stream, the stores of provisionsscattered through the woods, and then the force began its retreat overthe mountains to Fort Cumberland, sixty miles away. General Braddockdied the day that the retreat began. His last words were:

"We shall know better how to deal with them next time. "

The news of the disaster came like a thunderbolt upon the colonists. Success had been regarded as certain, and the news that some fourteenhundred English troops had been utterly routed, by a body of French andIndians of half their strength, seemed almost incredible. The onlyconsolation was that the hundred and fifty Virginians, who hadaccompanied the regulars, had all, as was acknowledged by the Englishofficers themselves, fought with the greatest bravery, and had kepttheir coolness and presence of mind till the last, and that on them noshadow of the discredit of the affair rested. Indeed, it was said thatthe greater part were killed not by the fire of the Indians, but bythat of the troops, who, standing in masses, fired in all directions, regardless of what was in front of them. 

But Colonel Dunbar, not satisfied with retreating to the safe shelterof Fort Cumberland, to the amazement of the colonists, insisted uponwithdrawing with his own force to Philadelphia, leaving the whole ofthe frontier open to the assaults of the hostile Indians. After waitinga short time at Philadelphia, he marched slowly on to join a forceoperating against the French in the region of Lake George, more thantwo hundred miles to the north. He took with him only the regulars, theprovincial regiments being under the control of the governors of theirown states. 

Washington therefore remained behind in Virginia with the regiment ofthat colony. The blanks made in Braddock's fight were filled up, andthe force raised to a thousand strong. With these he was to protect afrontier of three hundred and fifty miles long, against an active andenterprising foe more numerous than himself, and who, acting on theother side of the mountain, and in the shade of the deep forests, couldchoose their own time of attack, and launch themselves suddenly uponany village throughout the whole length of the frontier. 

Nor were the troops at his disposal the material which a commanderwould wish to have in his hand. Individually they were brave, but beingrecruited among the poor whites, the most turbulent and troublesomepart of the population, they were wholly unamenable to discipline, andWashington had no means whatever for enforcing it. He applied to theHouse of Assembly to pass a law enabling him to punish disobedience, but for months they hesitated to pass any such ordinance, on the excusethat it would trench on the liberty of free white men. 

The service, indeed, was most unpopular, and Washington, whoseheadquarters were at Winchester, could do nothing whatever to assistthe settlements on the border. His officers were as unruly as the men, and he was further hampered by having to comply with the orders ofGovernor Dinwiddie, at Williamsburg, two hundred miles away. 

"What do you mean to do?" he had asked James Walsham, the day that thebeaten army arrived at Fort Cumberland. 

"I do not know, " James said. "I certainly will not continue withDunbar, who seems to me to be acting like a coward; nor do I wish to gointo action with regulars again; not, at least, until they have beentaught that, if they are to fight Indians successfully in the forests, they must abandon all their traditions of drill, and must fight inIndian fashion. I should like to stay with you, if you will allow me. "

"I should be very glad to have you with me, " Washington said; "but I donot think that you will see much action here. It will be a war offorays. The Indians will pounce upon a village or solitary farm house, murder and scalp the inhabitants, burn the buildings to the ground, andin an hour be far away beyond reach of pursuit. All that I can do is tooccupy the chief roads, by which they can advance into the heart of thecolony, and the people of the settlements lying west of that must, perforce, abandon their homesteads, and fly east until we are strongenough to again take up the offensive. 

"Were I in your place, I would at once take horse and ride north. Youwill then be in plenty of time, if inclined, to join in the expeditionagainst the French on Fort George, or in that which is going to marchon Niagara. I fancy the former will be ready first. You will findthings better managed there than here. The colonists in that part have, for many years, been accustomed to Indian fighting, and they will notbe hampered by having regular troops with them, whose officers' onlyidea of warfare is to keep their men standing in line as targets forthe enemy. 

"There are many bodies of experienced scouts, to which you can attachyourself, and you will see that white men can beat the Indians at theirown game. "

Although sorry to leave the young Virginian officer, James Walshamthought that he could not do better than follow his advice, andaccordingly, the next day, having procured another horse, he set off tojoin the column destined to operate on the lakes. 

The prevision of Washington was shortly realized, and a cloud of redwarriors descended on the border settlements, carrying murder, rapine, and ruin before them. Scores of quiet settlements were destroyed, hundreds of men, women, and children massacred, and in a short time thewhole of the outlying farms were deserted, and crowds of weepingfugitives flocked eastward behind the line held by Washington'sregiment. 

But bad as affairs were in Virginia, those in Pennsylvania wereinfinitely worse. They had, for many years, been on such friendly termswith the Indians, that many of the settlers had no arms, nor had theythe protection in the way of troops which the government of Virginiaput upon the frontier. The government of the colony was atPhiladelphia, far to the east, and sheltered from danger, and theQuaker assembly there refused to vote money for a single soldier toprotect the unhappy colonists on the frontier. They held it a sin tofight, and above all to fight with Indians, and as long as theythemselves were free from the danger, they turned a deaf ear to thetales of massacre, and to the pitiful cries for aid which came from thefrontier. But even greater than their objection to war, was theirpassion of resistance to the representative of royalty, the governor. 

Petition after petition came from the border for arms and ammunition, and for a militia law to enable the people to organize and defendthemselves; but the Quakers resisted, declaring that Braddock's defeatwas a just judgment upon him and his soldiers for molesting the Frenchin their settlement in Ohio. They passed, indeed, a bill for raisingfifty thousand pounds for the king's use, but affixed to it acondition, to which they knew well the governor could not assent; viz, that the proprietary lands were to pay their share of the tax. 

To this condition the governor was unable to assent, for, according tothe constitution of the colony, to which he was bound, the lands ofWilliam Penn and his descendants were free of all taxation. For weeksthe deadlock continued. Every day brought news of massacres of tens, fifties, and even hundreds of persons, but the assembly remainedobstinate; until the mayor, aldermen, and principal citizens clamouredagainst them, and four thousand frontiersmen started on their march toPhiladelphia, to compel them to take measures for defence. 

Bodies of massacred men were brought from the frontier villages andparaded through the town, and so threatening became the aspect of thepopulation, that the Assembly of Quakers were at last obliged to pass amilitia law. It was, however, an absolutely useless one. It speciallyexcepted the Quakers from service, and constrained nobody, but declaredit lawful for such as chose to form themselves into companies, and toelect officers by ballot. The company officers might, if they saw fit, elect, also by ballot, colonels, lieutenant colonels, and majors. Theselast might then, in conjunction with the governor, frame articles ofwar, to which, however, no officer or man was to be subjected, unless, after three days' consideration, he subscribed them in presence of ajustice of the peace, and declared his willingness to be bound by them. 

This mockery of a bill, drawn by Benjamin Franklin while the savageswere raging in the colony and the smoke of a hundred villages wasascending to the skies, was received with indignation by the people, and this rose to such a height that the Assembly must have yieldedunconditionally, had not a circumstance occurred which gave them adecent pretext for retreat. 

The governor informed them that he had just received a letter from theproprietors, as Penn's heirs were called, giving to the province fivethousand pounds to aid in its defence, on condition that the moneyshould be accepted as a free gift, and not as their proportion of anytax that was or might be laid by the Assembly. 

Thereupon, the Assembly struck out the clause taxing the proprietoryestates, and the governor signed the bill. A small force was thenraised, which enabled the Indians to be to some extent kept in check;but there was no safety for the unhappy settlers in the west ofPennsylvania during the next three years, while the French fromMontreal were hounding on their savage allies, by gifts and rewards, todeeds of massacre and bloodshed. 

The northern colonies had shown a better spirit. Massachusetts, whichhad always been the foremost of the northern colonies in resistingFrench and Indian aggression, had at once taken the lead in preparationfor war. No less than 4500 men, being one in eight of her adult males, volunteered to fight the French, and enlisted for the variousexpeditions, some in the pay of the province, some in that of the king. Shirley, the governor of Massachusetts, himself a colonist, wasrequested by his Assembly to nominate the commander. He did not choosean officer of that province, as this would have excited the jealousy ofthe others, but nominated William Johnson of New York--a choice whichnot only pleased that important province, but had great influence insecuring the alliance of the Indians of the Five Nations, among whomJohnson, who had held the post of Indian commissioner, was extremelypopular. 

Connecticut voted 1200 men, New Hampshire 500, Rhode Island 400, andNew York 800, all at their own charge. Johnson, before assuming thecommand, invited the warriors of the Five Nations to assemble incouncil. Eleven hundred Indian warriors answered the invitation, andafter four days' speech making agreed to join. Only 300 of them, however, took the field, for so many of their friends and relativeswere fighting for the French, that the rest, when they sobered downafter the excitement of the council, returned to their homes. 

The object of the expedition was the attack of Crown Point--animportant military post on Lake Champlain--and the colonists assemblednear Albany; but there were great delays. The five colonial assembliescontrolled their own troops and supplies. Connecticut had refused tosend her men until Shirley promised that her commanding officer shouldrank next to Johnson, and the whole movement was for some time at adeadlock, because the five governments could not agree about theircontributions of artillery and stores. 

The troops were a rough-looking body. Only one of the corps had a blueuniform, faced with red. The rest wore their ordinary farm clothing. All had brought their own guns, of every description and fashion. Theyhad no bayonets, but carried hatchets in their belts as a sort ofsubstitute. 

In point of morals the army, composed almost entirely of farmers andfarmers' sons, was exemplary. It is recorded that not a chicken wasstolen. In the camps of the Puritan soldiers of New England, sermonswere preached twice a week, and there were daily prayers and muchsinging of psalms; but these good people were much shocked by theprofane language of the troops from New York and Rhode Island, and someprophesied that disaster would be sure to fall upon the army from thiscause. 

Months were consumed in various delays; and, on the 21st of August, just as they were moving forward, four Mohawks, whom Johnson had sentinto Canada, returned with the news that the French were making greatpreparations, and that 8000 men were marching to defend Crown Point. The papers of General Braddock, which fell, with all the baggage of thearmy, into the hands of the French, had informed them of the object ofthe gathering at Albany, and now that they had no fear of any furtherattempt against their posts in Ohio, they were able to concentrate alltheir force for the defence of their posts on Lake Champlain. 

On the receipt of this alarming news, a council of war was held atAlbany, and messages were sent to the colonies asking forreinforcements. In the meantime, the army moved up the Hudson to thespot called the Great Carrying Place, where Colonel Lyman, who wassecond in command, had gone forward and erected a fort, which his mencalled after him, but was afterwards named Fort Edward. 

James Walsham joined the army a few days before it moved forward. Hewas received with great heartiness by General Johnson, to whom hebrought a letter of introduction from Colonel Washington, and who atonce offered him a position as one of his aides-de-camp. This he foundexceedingly pleasant, for Johnson was one of the most jovial and openhearted of commanders. His hospitality was profuse, and, his privatemeans being large, he was able to keep a capital table, which, on theline of march, all officers who happened to pass by were invited toshare. This was a contrast, indeed, to the discipline which hadprevailed in Braddock's columns, and James felt as if he were startingupon a great picnic, rather than upon an arduous march against asuperior force. 

After some hesitation as to the course the army should take, it wasresolved to march for Lake George. Gangs of axemen were sent to hew away, and, on the 26th, 2000 men marched for the lake, while ColonelBlanchard, of New Hampshire, remained with 500 to finish and defendFort Lyman. The march was made in a leisurely manner, and the forcetook two days to traverse the fourteen miles between Fort Lyman and thelake. They were now in a country hitherto untrodden by white men saveby solitary hunters. 

They reached the southern end of the beautiful lake, which hitherto hadreceived no English name, and was now first called Lake George inhonour of the king. The men set to work, and felled trees until theyhad cleared a sufficient extent of ground for their camp, by the edgeof the water, and posted themselves with their back to the lake. Intheir front was a forest of pitch pine, on their right a marsh coveredwith thick brush wood, on their left a low hill. Things went on in thesame leisurely way which had marked the progress of the expedition. 

No attempt was made to clear away the forest in front, although itwould afford excellent cover for any enemy who might attack them, norwere any efforts made to discover the whereabouts or intention of theenemy. Every day waggons came up with provisions and boats. 

On September 7th, an Indian scout arrived about sunset, and reportedthat he had found the trail of a body of men moving from South Bay, thesouthern extremity of Lake Champlain, towards Fort Lyman. Johnsoncalled for a volunteer to carry a letter of warning to ColonelBlanchard. A waggoner named Adams offered to undertake the perilousservice, and rode off with the letter. Sentries were posted, and thecamp fell asleep. 

While Johnson had been taking his leisure on Lake George, the commanderof the French force, a German baron named Dieskau, was preparing asurprise for him. He had reached Crown Point at the head of 3573men--regulars, Canadians, and Indians--and he at once moved forward, with the greater portion of his command, on Cariolon, or, as it wasafterwards called, Ticonderoga, a promontory at the junction of LakeGeorge with Lake Champlain, where he would bar the advance of theEnglish, whichever road they might take. 

The Indians with the French caused great trouble to their commander, doing nothing but feast and sleep, but, on September 4th, a party ofthem came in bringing a scalp and an English prisoner, caught near FortLyman. 

He was questioned, under the threat of being given over to the Indiansto torture, if he did not tell the truth, but the brave fellow, thinking he should lead the enemy into a trap, told them that theEnglish army had fallen back to Albany, leaving 500 men at Fort Lyman, which he represented as being entirely indefensible. 

Dieskau at once determined to attack that place, and, with 216 regularsof the battalions of Languedoc and La Reine, 684 Canadians, and about600 Indians, started in canoes and advanced up Lake Champlain, tillthey came to the end of South Bay. Each officer and man carriedprovisions for eight days in his knapsack. 

Two days' march brought them to within three miles of Fort Lyman, andthey encamped close to the road which led to Lake George. Just afterthey had encamped, a man rode by on horseback. It was Adams, Johnson'smessenger. He was shot by the Indians, and the letter found upon him. Soon afterwards, ten or twelve waggons appeared, in charge ofammunition drivers who had left the English camp without orders. 

Some of the drivers were shot, two taken prisoners, and the rest ranaway. The two prisoners declared that, contrary to the assertion of theprisoner at Ticonderoga, a large force lay encamped by the lake. TheIndians held a council, and presently informed Dieskau that they wouldnot attack the fort, which they believed to be provided with cannon, but would join in an attempt on the camp by the lake. Dieskau judged, from the report of the prisoners, that the colonists considerablyoutnumbered him, although in fact there was no great difference innumerical strength, the French column numbering 1500 and the colonialforce 2200, besides 300 Mohawk Indians. But Dieskau, emulous ofrepeating the defeat of Braddock, and believing the assertions of theCanadians that the colonial militia was contemptible, determined toattack, and early in the morning the column moved along the roadtowards the lake. 

When within four miles of Johnson's camp, they entered a rugged valley. On their right was a gorge, hidden in bushes, beyond which rose therocky height of French Mountain. On their left rose gradually theslopes of West Mountain. The ground was thickly covered with thicketand forest. The regulars marched along the road, the Canadians andIndians pushed their way through the woods as best they could. Whenwithin three miles of the lake, their scout brought in a prisoner, whotold them that an English column was approaching. The regulars werehalted on the road, the Canadians and Indians moved on ahead, and hidthemselves in ambush among the trees and bushes on either side of theroad. 

The waggoners, who had escaped the evening before, had reachedJohnson's camp about midnight, and reported that there was a war partyon the road near Fort Lyman. A council of war was held, and under anentire misconception of the force of the enemy, and the belief thatthey would speedily fall back from Fort Lyman, it was determined tosend out two detachments, each 500 strong, one towards Fort Lyman, theother to catch the enemy in their retreat. Hendrick, the chief of theMohawks, expressed his strong disapproval of this plan, and accordinglyit was resolved that the thousand men should go as one body. Hendrickstill disapproved of the plan, but nevertheless resolved to accompanythe column, and, mounting on a gun carriage, he harangued his warriorswith passionate eloquence, and they at once prepared to accompany them. He was too old and fat to go on foot, and the general lent him a horse, which he mounted, and took his place at the head of the column. 

Colonel Williams was in command, with Lieutenant Colonel Whiting assecond. They had no idea of meeting the enemy near the camp, and movedforward so carelessly that not a single scout was thrown out in frontor flank. The sharp eye of the old Indian chief was the first to detecta sign of the enemy, and, almost at the same moment, a gun was firedfrom the bushes. It is said that the Iroquois, seeing the Mohawks, whowere an allied tribe, in the van, wished to warn them of danger. Thewarning came too late to save the column from disaster, but it saved itfrom destruction. From the thicket on the left a deadly fire blazedout, and the head of the column was almost swept away. Hendrick's horsewas shot, and the chief killed with a bayonet as he tried to gain hisfeet. 

Colonel Williams, seeing rising ground on his right, made for it, calling his men to follow; but, as he climbed the slope, the enemy'sfire flashed out from behind every tree, and he fell dead. The men inthe rear pressed forward to support their comrades, when the enemy inthe bushes on the right flank also opened fire. 

Then a panic began. Some fled at once for the camp, and the wholecolumn recoiled in confusion, as from all sides the enemy burst out, shouting and yelling. Colonel Whiting, however, bravely rallied aportion of Williams' regiment, and, aided by some of the Mohawks, andby a detachment which Johnson sent out to his aid, covered the retreat, fighting behind the trees like the Indians, and falling back in goodorder with their faces to the enemy. 

So stern and obstinate was their resistance that the French haltedthree-quarters of a mile from the camp. They had inflicted a heavyblow, but had altogether failed in obtaining the complete success theylooked for. The obstinate defence of Whiting and his men had surprisedand dispirited them, and Dieskau, when he collected his men, found theIndians sullen and unmanageable, and the Canadians unwilling to advancefurther, for they were greatly depressed by the loss of a veteranofficer, Saint Pierre, who commanded them, and who had been killed inthe fight. At length, however, he persuaded all to move forward, theregulars leading the way. 

James Walsham had not accompanied the column, and was sitting atbreakfast with General Johnson, on the stump of a tree in front of histent, when, on the still air, a rattling sound broke out. 

"Musketry!" was the general exclamation. 

An instantaneous change came over the camp. The sound of laughing andtalking was hushed, and every man stopped at his work. Louder andlouder swelled the distant sound, until the shots could no longer bedistinguished apart. The rattle had become a steady roll. 

"It is a regular engagement!" the general exclaimed. "The enemy must bein force, and must have attacked Williams' column. "

General Johnson ordered one of his orderlies to mount and ride out atfull speed and see what was going on. A quarter of an hour passed. Noone returned to his work. The men stood in groups, talking in lowvoices, and listening to the distant roar. 

"It is clearer than it was, " the general exclaimed. 

Several of the officers standing round agreed that the sound wasapproaching. 

"To work, lads!" the general said. "There is no time to be lost. Letall the axemen fell trees and lay them end to end to make a breastwork. The rest of you range the waggons in a line behind, and lay the boatsup in the intervals. Carry the line from the swamp, on the right there, to the slope of the hill. "

In an instant, the camp was a scene of animation, and the forestresounded with the strokes of the axe, and the shouts of the men asthey dragged the waggons to their position. 

"I was a fool, " Johnson exclaimed, "not to fortify the camp before; butwho could have supposed that the French would have come down from CrownPoint to attack us here!"

In a few minutes terror-stricken men, whites and Indians, arrived at arun through the forest, and reported that they had been attacked andsurprised by a great force in the forest, that Hendrick and ColonelWilliams were killed, and numbers of the men shot down. They reportedthat all was lost; but the heavy roll of fire, in the distance, contradicted their words; and showed that a portion of the column, atleast, was fighting sternly and steadily, though the sound indicatedthat they were falling back. 

Two hundred men had already been despatched to their assistance, andthe only effect of the news was to redouble the efforts of the rest. Soon parties arrived carrying wounded; but it was not until an hour anda half after the engagement began, that the main body of the columnwere seen marching, in good order, back through the forest. 

By this time the hasty defences were well-nigh completed, and all themen were employed in cutting down the thick brushwood outside, so as toclear the ground as far as possible, and so prevent the enemy fromstealing up, under shelter, to the felled trees. 

Three cannon were planted, to sweep the road that descended through thepines. Another was dragged up to the ridge of the hill. Two hundred andfifty men were now placed on each flank of the camp, the main bodystood behind the waggons or lay flat behind the logs and boats, theMassachusetts men on the right, the Connecticut men on the left. 

"Now, my lads, " Johnson shouted, in his cheery voice, "you have got tofight. Remember, if they get inside not one of you will ever go back toyour families to tell the tale, while if you fight bravely you willbeat them back sure enough. "

In a few minutes, ranks of white-coated soldiers could be seen movingdown the roads, with their bayonets showing between the boughs. At thesame time, Indian war whoops rose loud in the forest, and then darkforms could be seen, bounding down the slope through the trees towardsthe camp in a throng. 

There was a movement of uneasiness among the young rustics, few of whomever heard a shot fired in anger before that morning; but the officers, standing pistol in hand, threatened to shoot any man who moved from hisposition. 

Could Dieskau have launched his whole force at once upon the camp atthat moment, he would probably have carried it, but this he waspowerless to do. His regular troops were well in hand; but the mob ofCanadians and Indians were scattered through the forest, shouting, yelling, and firing from behind trees. 

He thought, however, that if he led the regulars to the attack, theothers would come forward, and he therefore gave the word for theadvance. The French soldiers advanced steadily, until the trees grewthinner. They were deployed into line, and opened fire in regularvolleys. Scarcely had they done so, however, when Captain Eyre, whocommanded the artillery, opened upon them with grape from his threeguns, while from waggon, and boat, and fallen log, the musketry fireflashed out hot and bitter, and, reeling under the shower of iron andlead, the French line broke up, the soldiers took shelter behind trees, and thence returned the fire of the defenders. 

Johnson received a flesh wound in the thigh, and retired to his tent, where he spent the rest of the day. Lyman took the command, and to himthe credit of the victory is entirely due. 

For four hours the combat raged. The young soldiers had soon got overtheir first uneasiness, and fought as steadily and coolly as veterans. The musketry fire was unbroken. From every tree, bush, and rock therifles flashed out, and the leaden hail flew in a storm over the camp, and cut the leaves in a shower from the forest. Through this Lymanmoved to and fro among the men, directing, encouraging, cheering themon, escaping as by a miracle the balls which whistled round him. Savethe Indians on the English side, not a man but was engaged, thewaggoners taking their guns and joining in the fight. 

The Mohawks, however, held aloof, saying that they had come to seetheir English brothers fight, but, animated no doubt with the ideathat, if they abstained from taking part in the fray, and the day wentagainst the English, their friends the Iroquois would not harm them. 

The French Indians worked round on to high ground, beyond the swamp onthe left, and their fire thence took the defenders in the flank. Captain Eyre speedily turned his guns in that direction, and a fewwell-directed shells soon drove the Indians from their vantage ground. Dieskau directed his first attack against the left and centre; but theConnecticut men fought so stoutly, that he next tried to force theright, where the Massachusetts regiments of Titcomb, Ruggles, andWilliams held the line. For an hour he strove hard to break his waythrough the intrenchments, but the Massachusetts men stood firm, although Titcomb was killed and their loss was heavy. 

At length Dieskau, exposing himself within short range of the Englishlines, was hit in the leg. While his adjutant Montreuil was dressingthe wound, the general was again hit in the knee and thigh. He hadhimself placed behind a tree, and ordered Montreuil to lead theregulars in a last effort against the camp. 

But it was too late. The blood of the colonists was now up, and, singlyor in small bodies, they were crossing their lines of barricade, andworking up among the trees towards their assailants. The movementbecame general, and Lyman, seeing the spirit of his men, gave the word, and the whole of the troops, with a shout, leaped up and dashed throughthe wood against the enemy, falling upon them with their hatchets andthe butts of their guns. 

The French and their allies instantly fled. As the colonists passed thespot where Dieskau was sitting on the ground, one of them, singularlyenough himself a Frenchman, who had ten years before left Canada, firedat him and shot him through both legs. Others came up and stripped himof his clothes, but, on learning who he was, they carried him toJohnson, who received him with the greatest kindness, and had everyattention paid to him. 

Chapter 11: Scouting. 

It was near five o'clock before the final rout of the French tookplace; but, before that time, several hundreds of the Canadians andIndians had left the scene of action, and had returned to the scene ofthe fight in the wood, to plunder and scalp the dead. They wereresting, after their bloody work, by a pool in the forest, when ascouting party from Fort Lyman, under Captains M'Ginnis and Folsom, came upon them and opened fire. 

The Canadians and Indians, outnumbering their assailants greatly, fought for some time, but were finally defeated and fled. M'Ginnis wasmortally wounded, but continued to give orders till the fight was over. The bodies of the slain were thrown into the pool, which to this daybears the name, "the bloody pool. "

The various bands of French fugitives reunited in the forest, and madetheir way back to their canoes in South Bay, and reached Ticonderogautterly exhausted and famished, for they had thrown away theirknapsacks in their flight, and had nothing to eat from the morning ofthe fight until they rejoined their comrades. 

Johnson had the greatest difficulty in protecting the wounded Frenchgeneral from the Mohawks, who, although they had done no fighting indefence of the camp, wanted to torture and burn Dieskau in revenge forthe death of Hendrick and their warriors who had fallen in the ambush. He, however, succeeded in doing so, and sent him in a litter under astrong escort to Albany. Dieskau was afterwards taken to England, andremained for some years at Bath, after which he returned to Paris. Henever, however, recovered from his numerous wounds, and died a fewyears later. 

He always spoke in the highest terms of the kindness he had receivedfrom the colonial officers. Of the provincial soldiers he said that, inthe morning they fought like boys, about noon like men, and in theafternoon like devils. 

The English loss in killed, wounded, and missing was two hundred andsixty-two, for the most part killed in the ambush in the morning. TheFrench, according to their own account, lost two hundred andtwenty-eight, but it probably exceeded four hundred, the principalportion of whom were regulars, for the Indians and Canadians keptthemselves so well under cover that they and the provincials, behindtheir logs, were able to inflict but little loss on each other. 

Had Johnson followed up his success, he might have reached South Baybefore the French, in which case the whole of Dieskau's column musthave fallen into his hands; nor did he press forward againstTiconderoga, which he might easily have captured. For ten days nothingwas done except to fortify the camp, and when, at the end of that time, he thought of advancing against Ticonderoga, the French had alreadyfortified the place so strongly that they were able to defy attack. Thecolonists sent him large reinforcements, but the season was gettinglate, and, after keeping the army stationary until the end of November, the troops, having suffered terribly from the cold and exposure, becamealmost mutinous, and were finally marched back to Albany, a smalldetachment being left to hold the fort by the lake. This was nowchristened Fort William Henry. 

The victory was due principally to the gallantry and coolness of Lyman;but Johnson, in his report of the battle, made no mention of thatofficer's name, and took all the credit to himself. He was rewarded bybeing made a baronet, and by being voted a pension, by parliament, offive thousand a year. 

James Walsham, having no duties during the fight at the camp, had takena musket and lain down behind the logs with the soldiers, and had, allthe afternoon, kept up a fire at the trees and bushes behind which theenemy were hiding. After the battle, he had volunteered to assist theover-worked surgeons, whose labours lasted through the night. When hefound that no forward movement was likely to take place, he determinedto leave the camp. He therefore asked Captain Rogers, who was theleader of a band of scouts, and a man of extraordinary energy andenterprise, to allow him to accompany him on a scouting expeditiontowards Ticonderoga. 

"I shall be glad to have you with me, " Rogers replied; "but you know itis a service of danger. It is not like work with regular troops, whereall march, fight, stand, or fall together. Here each man fights forhimself. Mind, there is not a man among my band who would not risk hislife for the rest; but, scattered through the woods as each man is, each must perforce rely principally on himself. The woods nearTiconderoga will be full of lurking redskins, and a man may be brainedand scalped without his fellow, a few yards away, hearing a sound. Ionly say this that you may feel that you must take your chances. Themen under me are, every one, old hunters and Indian fighters, and are amatch for the redskin in every move of forest war. They are true gritto the backbone, but they are rough outspoken men, and, on a servicewhen a foot carelessly placed on a dried twig, or a word spoken above awhisper, may bring a crowd of yelping redskins upon us, and cost everyman his scalp, they would speak sharply to the king himself, if he wereon the scout with them, and you must not take offence at any rough wordthat may be said. "

James laughed, and said that he should not care how much he was blownup, and that he should thankfully receive any lessons from such mastersof forest craft. 

"Very well, " Captain Rogers said. "In that case, it is settled. I willlet you have a pair of moccasins. You cannot go walking about in thewoods in those boots. You had better get a rifle. Your sword you hadbest leave behind. It will be of no use to you, and will only be inyour way. "

James had no difficulty in providing himself with a gun, for numbers ofweapons, picked up in the woods after the rout of the enemy, werestored in camp. The rifles had, however, been all taken by the troops, who had exchanged their own firelocks for them. Captain Rogers wentwith him among the men, and selected a well-finished rifle of which oneof them had possessed himself. Its owner readily agreed to accept fivepounds for it, taking in its stead one of the guns in the store. Beforechoosing it, Captain Rogers placed a bit of paper against a tree, andfired several shots at various distances at it. 

"It is a beautiful rifle, " he said. "Its only fault is that it israther heavy, but it shoots all the better for it. It is evidently aFrench gun, I should say by a first-rate maker, built probably for someFrench officer who knew what he was about. It is a good workmanlikepiece, and, when you learn to hold it straight, you can trust it toshoot. "

That evening James, having made all his preparations, said goodbye tothe general and to his other friends, and joined the scouts who weregathering by the shore of the lake. Ten canoes, each of which wouldcarry three men, were lying by the shore. 

"Nat, you and Jonathan will take this young fellow with you. He is alad, and it is his first scout. You will find him of the right sort. Hewas with Braddock, and after that affair hurried up here to seefighting on the lakes. He can't have two better nurses than you are. Heis going to be an officer in the king's army, and wants to learn asmuch as he can, so that, if he ever gets with his men into such a messas Braddock tumbled into, he will know what to do with them. "

"All right, captain! We will do our best for him. It's risky sort ofbusiness ours for a greenhorn, but if he is anyways teachable, we willsoon make a man of him. "

The speaker was a wiry, active man of some forty years old, with aweatherbeaten face, and a keen gray eye. Jonathan, his comrade, was ahead taller, with broad shoulders, powerful limbs, and a quiet butgood-tempered face. 

"That's so, isn't it, Jonathan?" Nat asked. 

Jonathan nodded. He was not a man of many words. 

"Have you ever been in a canoe before?" Nat inquired. 

"Never, " James said; "but I am accustomed to boats of all sorts, andcan handle an oar fairly. "

"Oars ain't no good here, " the scout said. "You will have to learn topaddle; but, first of all, you have got to learn to sit still. Thesehere canoes are awkward things for a beginner. Now you hand in yourtraps, and I will stow them away, then you take your place in themiddle of the boat. Here's a paddle for you, and when you begin to feelyourself comfortable, you can start to try with it, easy and gentle tobegin with; but you must lay it in when we get near where we may expectthat redskins may be in the woods, for the splash of a paddle mightcost us all our scalps. "

James took his seat in the middle of the boat. Jonathan was behind him. Nat handled the paddle in the bow. There was but a brief delay instarting, and the ten boats darted noiselessly out on to the lake. Fora time, James did not attempt to use his paddle. The canoe was of birchbark, so thin that it seemed to him that an incautious movement wouldinstantly knock a hole through her. 

Once under weigh, she was steadier than he had expected, and Jamescould feel her bound forward with each stroke of the paddles. When hebecame accustomed to the motion of the boat, he raised himself from asitting position in the bottom, and, kneeling as the others were doing, he began to dip his paddle quietly in the water in time with theirstroke. His familiarity with rowing rendered it easy for him to keeptime and swing, and, ere long, he found himself putting a considerableamount of force into each stroke. Nat looked back over his shoulder. 

"Well done, young 'un. That's first rate for a beginner, and it makes adeal of difference on our arms. The others are all paddling three, and, though Jonathan and I have beaten three before now, when our scalpsdepended on our doing so, it makes all the difference in the workwhether you have a sitter to take along, or an extra paddle going. "

It was falling dusk when the boat started, and was, by this time, quitedark. Scarce a word was heard in the ten canoes as, keeping near theright-hand shore of the lake, they glided rapidly along in a closebody. So noiselessly were the paddles dipped into the water that thedrip from them, as they were lifted, was the only sound heard. 

Four hours' steady paddling took them to the narrows, aboutfive-and-twenty miles from their starting point. Here, on the whisperedorder of Nat, James laid in his paddle; for, careful as he was, heoccasionally made a slight splash as he put it in the water. The canoesnow kept in single file, almost under the trees on the right bank, forthe lake was here scarce a mile across, and watchful eyes might be onthe lookout on the shore to the left. Another ten miles was passed, andthen the canoes were steered in to the shore. 

The guns, blankets, and bundles were lifted out; the canoes raised onthe shoulders of the men, and carried a couple of hundred yards amongthe trees; then, with scarcely a word spoken, each man rolled himselfin his blanket and lay down to sleep, four being sent out as scouts invarious directions. Soon after daybreak, all were on foot again, although it had been arranged that no move should be made till nightset in. No fires were lighted, for they had brought with them a supplyof biscuit and dry deers' flesh sufficient for a week. 

"How did you get on yesterday?" Captain Rogers asked, as he came up tothe spot where James had just risen to his feet. 

"First rate, captain!" Nat answered for him. "I hardly believed that ayoung fellow could have handled a paddle so well, at the first attempt. He rowed all the way, except just the narrows, and though I don't sayas he was noiseless, he did wonderfully well, and we came along withthe rest as easy as may be. "

"I thought I heard a little splash, now and then, " the captain said, smiling; "but it was very slight, and could do no harm where the lakeis two or three miles wide, as it is here. But you will have to lay inyour paddle when we get near the other end, for the sides narrow inthere, and the redskins would hear a fish jump, half a mile away. "

During the day the men passed their time in sleep, in mending theirclothes, or in talking quietly together. The use of tea had not yetbecome general in America, and the meals were washed down with waterdrawn from the lake (where an over-hanging bush shaded the shore fromthe sight of anyone on the opposite bank), mixed with rum from thegourds which all the scouts carried. 

Nat spent some time in pointing out, to James, the signs by which thehunters found their way through the forest; by the moss and lichensgrowing more thickly on the side of the trunks of the trees opposed tothe course of the prevailing winds, or by a slight inclination of theupper boughs of the trees in the same direction. 

"An old woodsman can tell, " he said, "on the darkest night, on runninghis hand round the trunk of a tree, by the feel of the bark, which isnorth and south; but it would be long before you can get to suchniceties as that; but, if you keep your eyes open as you go along, andlook at the signs on the trunks, which are just as plain, when you onceknow them, as the marks on a man's face, you will be able to make yourway through the woods in the daytime. Of course, when the sun isshining, you get its help, for, although it is not often a gleam comesdown through the leaves, sometimes you come upon a little patch, andyou are sure, now and then, to strike on a gap where a tree has fallen, and that gives you a line again. A great help to a young beginner isthe sun, for a young hand in the woods gets confused, and doubts thesigns of the trees; but, in course, when he comes on a patch ofsunlight, he can't make a mistake nohow as to the direction. "

James indulged in a silent hope that, if he were ever lost in thewoods, the sun would be shining, for, look as earnestly as he would, hecould not perceive the signs which appeared so plain and distinct tothe scout. Occasionally, indeed, he fancied that there was some slightdifference between one side of the trunk and the other; but he was byno means sure that, even in these cases, he should have noticed itunless it had been pointed out to him; while, in the greater part ofthe trees he could discern no difference whatever. 

"It's just habit, my lad, " Nat said encouragingly to him; "there's justas much difference between one side of the tree and the other, as thereis between two men's faces. It comes of practice. Now, just look at theroots of this tree; don't you see, on one side they run pretty nighstraight out from the trunk, while from the other they go down deepinto the ground. That speaks for itself. The tree has thrown out itsroots, to claw into the ground and get a hold, on the side from whichthe wind comes; while, on the other side, having no such occasion, ithas dipped its root down to look for moisture and food. "

"Yes, I do see that, " James said, "that is easy enough to make out; butthe next tree, and the next, and, as far as I see, all the others, don't seem to have any difference in their roots one side or theother. "

"That is so, " the scout replied. "You see, those are younger trees thanthis, and it is like enough they did not grow under the samecircumstances. When a few trees fall, or a small clearing is made by agale, the young trees that grow up are well sheltered from the wind bythe forest, and don't want to throw out roots to hold them up; but whena great clearing has been made, by a fire or other causes, the trees, as they grow up together, have no shelter, and must stretch out theirroots to steady them. 

"Sometimes, you will find all the trees, for a long distance, withtheir roots like this; sometimes only one tree among a number. Perhaps, when they started, that tree had more room, or a deeper soil, and grewfaster than the rest, and got his head above them, so he felt the windmore, and had to throw out his roots to steady himself; while theothers, all growing the same height, did not need to do so. "

"Thank you, " James said. "I understand now, and will bear it in mind. It is very interesting, and I should like, above all things, to be ableto read the signs of the woods as you do. "

"It will come, lad. It's a sort of second nature. These things aregifts. The redskin thinks it just as wonderful that the white manshould be able to take up a piece of paper covered with black marks, and to read off sense out of them, as you do that he should be able toread every mark and sign of the wood. He can see, as plain as if theman was still standing on it, the mark of a footprint, and can tell youif it was made by a warrior or a squaw, and how long they have passedby, and whether they were walking fast or slow; while the ordinarywhite man might go down on his hands and knees, and stare at theground, and wouldn't be able to see the slightest sign or mark. For awhite man, my eyes are good, but they are not a patch on a redskin's. Ihave lived among the woods since I was a boy; but even now, a redskinlad can pick up a trail and follow it when, look as I will, I can't seeas a blade of grass has been bruised. No; these things is partly naturand partly practice. Practice will do a lot for a white man; but itwon't take him up to redskin natur. "

Not until night had fallen did the party again launch their canoes onthe lake. Then they paddled for several hours until, as James imagined, they had traversed a greater distance, by some miles, than that whichthey had made on the previous evening. He knew, from what he hadlearned during the day, that they were to land some six miles below thepoint where Lake George joins Lake Champlain, and where, on theopposite side, on a promontory stretching into the lake, the Frenchwere constructing their new fort. 

The canoes were to be carried some seven or eight miles through thewood, across the neck of land between the two lakes, and were then tobe launched again on Lake Champlain, so that, by following the eastshore of that lake, they would pass Ticonderoga at a safe distance. Thehalt was made as noiselessly as before, and, having hauled up thecanoes, the men slept till daybreak; and then, lifting the light crafton their shoulders, started for their journey through the woods. It wastoilsome work, for the ground was rough and broken, often thicklycovered with underwood. Ridges had to be crossed and deep ravinespassed, and, although the canoes were not heavy, the greatest care hadto be exercised, for a graze against a projecting bough, or the edge ofa rock, would suffice to tear a hole in the thin bark. 

It was not until late in the afternoon that they arrived on the shoresof Lake Champlain. A fire was lighted now, the greatest care beingtaken to select perfectly dry sticks, for the Iroquois were likely tobe scattered far and wide among the woods. The risk, however, was farless than when in sight of the French side of Lake George. Afterdarkness fell, the canoes were again placed in the water, and, strikingacross the lake, they followed the right-hand shore. After paddling forabout an hour and a half, the work suddenly ceased. 

The lake seemed to widen on their left, for they had just passed thetongue of land between the two lakes, and on the opposite shore anumber of fires were seen, burning brightly on the hillside. It wasTiconderoga they were now abreast of, the advanced post of the French. They lingered for some time before the paddles were again dipped inwater, counting the fires and making a careful note of the position. They paddled on again until some twelve miles beyond the fort, and thencrossed the lake and landed on the French shore. 

But the canoes did not all approach the shore together, as they haddone on the previous nights. They halted half a mile out, and CaptainRogers went forward with his own and another canoe and landed, and itwas not for half an hour that the signal was given, by an imitation ofthe croaking of a frog, that a careful search had ascertained theforest to be untenanted, and the landing safe. 

No sooner was the signal given than the canoes were set in motion, andwere soon safely hauled up on shore. Five men went out, as usual, asscouts, and the rest, fatigued by their paddle and the hard day's work, were soon asleep. 

In the morning they were about to start, and Rogers ordered the canoesto be hauled up and hidden among the bushes, where, having done theirwork, they would for the present be abandoned, to be recovered and madeuseful on some future occasion. 

The men charged with the work gave a sudden exclamation when theyreached the canoes. 

"What is that?" Rogers said angrily. "Do you want to bring all theredskins in the forest upon us?"

"The canoes are all damaged, " one of the scouts said, coming up to him. 

There was a general movement to the canoes, which were lying on thebank a few yards' distance from the water's edge. Every one of them hadbeen rendered useless. The thin birch bark had been gashed and slit, pieces had been cut out, and not one of them had escaped injury or wasfit to take the water. Beyond a few low words, and exclamations ofdismay, not a word was spoken as the band gathered round the canoes. 

"Who were on the watch on this side?" Rogers asked. 

"Nat and Jonathan took the first half of the night, " one of the scoutssaid. "Williams and myself relieved them. "

As all four were men of the greatest skill and experience, Rogers feltsure that no neglect or carelessness on their part could have led tothe disaster. 

"Did any of you see any passing boats, or hear any sound on the lake?"

The four men who had been on guard replied in the negative. 

"I will swear no one landed near the canoes, " Nat said. "There was aglimmer on the water all night; a canoe could not have possibly comenear the bank, anywheres here, without our seeing it. "

"Then he must have come from the land side, " Rogers said. "Someskulking Indian must have seen us out on the lake, and have hidden upwhen we landed. He may have been in a tree overhead all the time, and, directly the canoes were hauled up, he may have damaged them and madeoff. 

"There is no time to be lost, lads. It is five hours since we landed. If he started at once the redskins may be all round us now. It is noquestion now of our scouting round the French fort, it is one of savingour scalps. "

"How could it have been done?" James Walsham asked Nat, in a low tone. "We were all sleeping within a few yards of the canoes, and some of themen were close to them. I should have thought we must have heard it. "

"Heard it!" the hunter said contemptuously; "why, a redskin would makeno more noise in cutting them holes and gashes, than you would incutting a hunk of deer's flesh for your dinner. He would lie on theground, and wriggle from one to another like an eel; but I reckon hedidn't begin till the camp was still. The canoes wasn't hauled up tillwe had sarched the woods, as we thought, and then we was moving aboutclose by them till we lay down. 

"I was standing theer on the water's edge not six feet away from thatcanoe. I never moved for two hours, and, quiet as a redskin may be, hemust have taken time to do that damage, so as I never heard a sound asloud as the falling of a leaf. No, I reckon as he was at the very leasttwo hours over that job. He may have been gone four hours or a bitover, but not more; but that don't give us much of a start. It wouldtake him an hour and a half to get to the fort, then he would have toreport to the French chap in command, and then there might be some talkbefore he set out with the redskins, leaving the French to follow. "

"It's no use thinking of mending the canoes, I suppose, " James asked. 

The hunter shook his head. 

"It would take two or three hours to get fresh bark and mend thoseholes, " he said, "and we haven't got as many minutes to spare. There, now, we are off. "

While they had been speaking, Rogers had been holding a consultationwith two or three of his most experienced followers, and they hadarrived at pretty nearly the same conclusion as that of Rogers, namely, that the Indian had probably taken two or three hours in damaging thecanoes and getting fairly away into the forest; but that, even if hehad done so, the Iroquois would be up in the course of half an hour. 

"Let each man pack his share of meat on his back, " Rogers said. "Don'tleave a scrap behind. Quick, lads, there's not a minute to be lost. It's a case of legs, now. There's no hiding the trail of thirty menfrom redskin eyes. "

In a couple of minutes, all were ready for the start, and Rogers atonce led the way, at a long slinging trot, straight back from the lake, first saying:

"Pick your way, lads, and don't tread on a fallen stick. There is justone chance of saving our scalps, and only one, and that depends uponsilence. "

As James ran along, at the heels of Nat, he was struck with thestrangeness of the scene, and the noiselessness with which the band ofmoccasin-footed men flitted among the trees. Not a word was spoken. Allhad implicit confidence in their leader, the most experienced bushfighter on the frontier, and knew that, if anyone could lead them safefrom the perils that surrounded them, it was Rogers. 

James wondered what his plan could be. It seemed certain to him thatthe Indians must, sooner or later, overtake them. They would be awareof the strength of the band, and, confiding in their superior numbers, would be able to push forward in pursuit without pausing for manyprecautions. Once overtaken, the band must stand at bay, and, evencould they hold the Indians in check, the sound of the firing wouldsoon bring the French soldiers to the spot. 

They had been gone some twenty minutes only, when a distant war whooprose in the forest behind them. 

"They have come down on the camp, " Nat said, glancing round over hisshoulder, "and find we have left it. I expect they hung about a littlebefore they ventured in, knowing as we should be expecting them, whenwe found the canoes was useless. That war whoop tells 'em all as wehave gone. They will gather there, and then be after us like a pack ofhounds. 

"Ah! That is what I thought the captain was up to. "

Rogers had turned sharp to the left, the direction in which Ticonderogastood. He slacked down his speed somewhat, for the perspiration wasstreaming down the faces even of his trained and hardy followers. Fromtime to time, he looked round to see that all were keeping welltogether. Although, in such an emergency as this, none thought ofquestioning the judgment of their leader, many of them were wonderingat the unusual speed at which he was leading them along. They had sometwo miles start of their pursuers, and, had evening been at hand, theywould have understood the importance of keeping ahead until darknesscame on to cover their trail; but, with the whole day before them, theyfelt that they must be overtaken sooner or later, and they could notsee the object of exhausting their strength before the struggle began. 

As they ran on, at a somewhat slower pace now, an idea as to theirleader's intention dawned upon most of the scouts, who saw, by thedirection they were taking, that they would again strike the lake shorenear the French fort. Nat, who, light and wiry, was running easily, while many of his comrades were panting with their exertions, was nowby the side of James Walsham. 

"Give me your rifle, lad, for a bit. You are new to this work, and theweight of the gun takes it out of you. We have got another nine or tenmiles before us, yet. "

"I can hold on for a bit, " James replied. "I am getting my wind better, now; but why only ten miles? We must be seventy away from the fort. "

"We should never get there, " Nat said. "A few of us might do it, butthe redskins would be on us in an hour or two. I thought, when westarted, as the captain would have told us to scatter, so as to giveeach of us some chance of getting off; but I see his plan now, and it'sthe only one as there is which gives us a real chance. He is makingstraight for the French fort. He reckons, no doubt, as the best part ofthe French troops will have marched out after the redskins. "

"But there would surely be enough left, " James said, "to hold the fortagainst us; and, even if we could take it, we could not hold it an hourwhen they all came up. "

"He ain't thinking of the fort, boy, he's thinking of the boats. Weknow as they have lots of 'em there, and, if we can get there a fewminutes before the redskins overtake us, we may get off safe. It's achance, but I think it's a good one. "

Others had caught their leader's idea and repeated it to theircomrades, and the animating effect soon showed itself in the increasedspeed with which the party hurried through the forest. Before, almostevery man had thought their case hopeless, had deemed that they hadonly to continue their flight until overtaken by the redskins, and thatthey must, sooner or later, succumb to the rifles of the Iroquois andtheir French allies. But the prospect that, after an hour's run, ameans of escape might be found, animated each man to renewed efforts. 

After running for some distance longer, Rogers suddenly halted and heldup his hand, and the band simultaneously came to a halt. At first, nothing could be heard save their own quick breathing; then a confusednoise was heard to their left front, a deep trampling and the sound ofvoices, and an occasional clash of arms. 

"It is the French column coming out, " Nat whispered, as Rogers, swerving somewhat to the right, and making a sign that all should runas silently as possible, continued his course. 

Chapter 12: A Commission. 

Presently the noise made by the column of French troops was heardabreast of the fugitives. Then it died away behind them, and they againdirected their course to the left. Ten minutes later, they heard a loudsuccession of Indian whoops, and knew that the redskins pursuing themhad also heard the French column on its march, and would be warningthem of the course which the band were taking. The scouts were now butfour miles from Ticonderoga, and each man knew that it was a merequestion of speed. 

"Throw away your meat, " Rogers ordered, "you will not want it now, andevery pound tells. "

The men had already got rid of their blankets, and were now burdenedonly with their rifles and ammunition. The ground was rough and broken, for they were nearing the steep promontory on which the French fort hadbeen erected. They were still a mile ahead of their pursuers, andalthough the latter had gained that distance upon them since the firststart, the scouts knew that, now they were exerting themselves to theutmost, the redskins could be gaining but little upon them, for thetrained white man is, in point of speed and endurance, fairly a matchfor the average Indian. 

They had now descended to within a short distance of the edge of thelake, in order to avoid the valleys and ravines running down from thehills. The war whoops rose frequently in the forest behind them, theIndians yelling to give those at the fort notice that the chase wasapproaching. 

"If there war any redskins left at the fort, " Nat said to James, "theywould guess what our game was; but I expect every redskin started outon the hunt, and the French soldiers, when they hear the yelling, won'tknow what to make of it, and, if they do anything, they will shutthemselves up in their fort. "

Great as were the exertions which the scouts were making, they couldtell, by the sound of the war whoops, that some at least of the Indianswere gaining upon them. Accustomed as every man of the party was to thefatigues of the forest, the strain was telling upon them all now. Fortwelve miles they had run almost at the top of their speed, and theshort panting breath, the set faces, and the reeling steps showed thatthey were nearly at the end of their powers. Still they held on, withscarcely any diminishing of speed. Each man knew that if he fell, hemust die, for his comrades could do nothing for him, and no pause waspossible until the boats were gained. 

They were passing now under the French works, for they could hearshouting on the high ground to the right, and knew that the troops leftin the fort had taken the alarm; but they were still invisible, for itwas only at the point of the promontory that the clearing had beencarried down to the water's edge. A low cry of relief burst from themen, as they saw the forest open before them, and a minute later theywere running along in the open, near the shore of the lake, at theextremity of the promontory, where, hauled up upon the shore, lay anumber of canoes and flat-bottomed boats, used for the conveyance oftroops. A number of boatmen were standing near, evidently alarmed bythe war cries in the woods. When they saw the party approaching they atonce made for the fort, a quarter of a mile away on the high ground, and, almost at the same moment, a dropping fire of musketry opened fromthe entrenchments. 

"Smash the canoes, " Rogers said, setting the example by administering avigorous kick to one of them. 

The others followed his example, and, in a few seconds, every one ofthe frail barks was stove in. 

"Two of the boats will hold us well, " Rogers said; "quick, into thewater with them, and out with the oars. Ten row in each boat. Let theother five handle their rifles, and keep back the Indians as they comeup. Never mind the soldiers. "

For the white-coated troops, perceiving the scouts' intention, were nowpouring out from the intrenchments. 

A couple of minutes sufficed for the men to launch the boats and taketheir seats, and the oars dipped in the water just as three or fourIndians dashed out from the edge of the forest. 

"We have won the race by three minutes, " Rogers said, exultantly. "Stretch to your oars, lads, and get out of range as soon as you can. "

The Indians began to fire as soon as they perceived the boats. Theywere scarcely two hundred yards away, but they, like the white men, were panting with fatigue, and their bullets flew harmlessly by. 

"Don't answer yet, " Rogers ordered, as some of the scouts werepreparing to fire. "Wait till your hands get steady, and then fire atthe French. There won't be many of the redskins up, yet. "

The boats were not two hundred yards from shore when the Frenchsoldiers reached the edge of the water and opened fire, but at thisdistance their weapons were of little avail, and, though the bulletssplashed thickly around the boats, no one was injured, while several ofthe French were seen to drop from the fire of the scouts. Anotherhundred yards, and the boats were beyond any danger, save from a chanceshot. The Indians still continued firing, and several of their shotsstruck the boats, one of the rowers being hit on the shoulder. 

"Lay in your rifles, and man the other two oars in each boat, " Rogerssaid. "The French are launching some of their bateaux, but we have gota fair start, and they won't overtake us before we reach the oppositepoint. They are fresher than we are, but soldiers are no good rowing;besides, they are sure to crowd the boats so that they won't have achance. "

Five or six boats, each crowded with men, started in pursuit, but theywere fully half a mile behind when the two English boats reached theshore. 

"Now it is our turn, " Rogers said, as the men, leaping ashore, tooktheir places behind trees. As soon as the French boats came withinrange, a steady fire was opened upon them. Confusion was at onceapparent among them. Oars were seen to drop, and as the fire continued, the rowing ceased. Another minute and the boats were turned, and weresoon rowing out again into the lake. 

"There's the end of that, " Rogers said, "and a close shave it has been. 

"Well, youngster, what do you think of your first scout in the woods?"

"It has been sharper than I bargained for, " James said, laughing, "andwas pretty near being the last, as well as the first. If it hadn't beenfor your taking us to the boats, I don't think many of us would havegot back to Fort Henry to tell the tale. "

"There is generally some way out of a mess, " Rogers said, "if one doesbut think of it. If I had not thought of the French boats, we shouldhave scattered, and a few of us would have been overtaken, no doubt;but even an Indian cannot follow a single trail as fast as a man canrun, and I reckon most of us would have carried our scalps back tocamp. Still, with the woods full of Iroquois they must have had some ofus, and I hate losing a man if it can be helped. We are well out of it. 

"Now, lads, we had better be tramping. There are a lot more bateauxcoming out, and I expect, by the rowing, they are manned by Indians. The redskin is a first-rate hand with the paddle, but is no good withan oar. "

The man who had been hit in the shoulder had already had his woundbandaged. There was a minute's consultation as to whether they shouldcontinue their journey in the boats, some of the men pointing out thatthey had proved themselves faster than their pursuers. 

"That may be, " Rogers says; "but the Indians will land and follow alongthe shore, and will soon get ahead of us, for they can travel quickerthan we can row, and, for aught we know, there may be a whole fleet ofcanoes higher up Lake George which would cut us off. No, lads, thesafest way is to keep on through the woods. "

The decision was received without question, and the party at oncestarted at a swinging trot, which was kept up, with occasionalintervals of walking, throughout the day. At nightfall their course waschanged, and, after journeying another two or three miles, a halt wascalled, for Rogers was sure that the Indians would abandon pursuit, when night came on without their having overtaken the fugitives. 

Before daybreak the march was continued, and, in the afternoon, theparty arrived at Fort William Henry. 

James now determined to leave the force, and return at once to NewYork, where his letters were to be addressed to him. He took with him aletter from General Johnson, speaking in the warmest tones of hisconduct. 

On arriving at New York he found, at the post office there, a greatpile of letters awaiting him. They had been written after the receiptof his letter at the end of July, telling those at home of his share inBraddock's disaster. 

"I little thought, my boy, " his mother wrote, "when we received yourletter, saying that you had got your discharge from the ship, and weregoing with an expedition against the French, that you were going to runinto such terrible danger. Fortunately, the same vessel which broughtthe news of General Braddock's defeat also brought your letter, and welearned the news only a few hours before your letter reached us. Itwas, as you may imagine, a time of terrible anxiety to us, and thesquire and Aggie were almost as anxious as I was. Mr. Wilks did hisbest to cheer us all, but I could see that he, too, felt it verygreatly. However, when your letter came we were all made happy again, though, of course, we cannot be but anxious, as you say you are justgoing to join another expedition; still, we must hope that that will dobetter, as it won't be managed by regular soldiers. Mr. Wilks was quiteangry at what you said about the folly of making men stand in a line tobe shot at, he thinks so much of drill and discipline. The squire andhe have been arguing quite fiercely about it; but the squire gets thebest of the argument, for the dreadful way in which the soldiers wereslaughtered shows that, though that sort of fighting may be good inother places, it is not suited for fighting these wicked Indians in thewoods. 

"The squire has himself been up to London about your commission, andhas arranged it all. He has, as he will tell you in his letter, got youa commission in the regiment commanded by Colonel Otway, which is to goout next spring. He was introduced to the commander in chief by hisfriend, and told him that you had been acting as Colonel Washington'saide-de-camp with General Braddock, and that you have now gone to joinGeneral Johnson's army; so the duke said that, though you would begazetted at once, and would belong to the regiment, you might as wellstay out there and see service until it arrived; and that it would be agreat advantage to the regiment to have an officer, with experience inIndian fighting, with it. I cried when he brought me back the news, forI had hoped to have you back again with us for a bit, before you wentsoldiering for good. However, the squire seems to think it is a capitalthing for you. Mr. Wilks thinks so, too, so I suppose I must put upwith it; but Aggie agrees with me, and says it is too bad that sheshould never have seen you, once, from the time when she saw you inthat storm. 

"She is a dear little girl, and is growing fast. I think she must havegrown quite an inch in the five months you have been away. She sendsher love to you, and says you must take care of yourself, for hersake. "

The squire, in his letter, repeated the news Mrs. Walsham had given. 

"You are now an ensign, " he said, "and, if you go into any more fightsbefore your regiment arrives, you must, Mr. Wilks said, get a properuniform made for you, and fight as a king's officer. I send you a copyof the gazette, where you will see your name. "

Mr. Wilks's letter was a long one. 

"I felt horribly guilty, dear Jim, " he said, "when the news came ofBraddock's dreadful defeat. I could hardly look your dear mother in theface, and, though the kind lady would not, I know, say a word to hurtmy feelings for the world, yet I could see that she regarded me as amonster, for it was on my advice that, instead of coming home when yougot your discharge, you remained out there and took part in thisunfortunate expedition. I could see Aggie felt the same, and, though Idid my best to keep up their spirits, I had a terrible time of it untilyour letter arrived, saying you were safe. If it had not come, I dobelieve that I should have gone quietly off to Exeter, hunted up my boxagain, and hired a boy to push it for me, for I am not so strong as Iwas. But I would rather have tramped about, for the rest of my life, than remain there under your mother's reproachful eye. However, thankGod you came through it all right, and, after such a lesson, I shouldhope that we shall never have repetition of such a disaster as that. Asan old soldier, I cannot agree with what you say about the uselessnessof drill, even for fighting in a forest. It must accustom men to listento the voice of their officers, and to obey orders promptly andquickly, and I cannot but think that, if the troops had gone forward ata brisk double, they would have driven the Indians before them. As tothe whooping and yells you talk so much about, I should think nothingof them; they are no more to be regarded than the shrieks of women, orthe braying of donkeys. "

James smiled as he read this, and thought that, if the old soldier hadheard that chaos of blood-curdling cries break out, in the still depthof the forest, he would not write of them with such equanimity. 

"You will have heard, from the squire, that you are gazetted to Otway'sregiment which, with others, is to cross the Atlantic in a few weeks, when it is generally supposed war will be formally declared. Yourexperience will be of great use to you, and ought to get you a goodstaff appointment. I expect that, in the course of a year, there willbe fighting on a large scale on your side of the water, and the Englishought to get the best of it, for France seems, at present, to bethinking a great deal more of her affairs in Europe than of hercolonies in America. So much the better, for, if we can take Canada, weshall strike a heavy blow to her trade, and some day North America isgoing to be an important place in the world. "

The letters had been lying there several weeks, and James knew thatOtway's regiment had, with the others, arrived a few days before, andhad already marched for Albany. Thinking himself entitled to a littlerest, after his labours, he remained for another week in New York, while his uniform was being made, and then took a passage in a tradingboat up to Albany. 

Scarcely had he landed, when a young officer in the same uniform methim. He looked surprised, hesitated, and then stopped. 

"I see you belong to our regiment, " he said. "Have you just arrivedfrom England? What ship did you come in?"

"I have been out here some time, " James replied. "My name is Walsham. Ibelieve I was gazetted to your regiment some months ago, but I onlyheard the news on my arrival at New York last week. "

"Oh, you are Walsham!" the young officer said. "My name is Edwards. Iam glad to meet you. We have been wondering when you would join us, andenvying your luck, in seeing so much of the fighting out here. Ourregiment is encamped about half a mile from here. If you will let me, Iwill go back with you, and introduce you to our fellows. "

James thanked him, and the two walked along talking together. Jameslearned that there were already five ensigns junior to himself, his newacquaintance being one of them, as the regiment had been somewhat shortof officers, and the vacancies had been filled up shortly before itsailed. 

"Of course, we must call on the colonel first, " Mr. Edwards said. "Heis a capital fellow, and very much liked in the regiment. "

Colonel Otway received James with great cordiality. 

"We are very glad to get you with us, Mr. Walsham, " he said, "and weconsider it a credit to the regiment to have a young officer who hasbeen, three times, mentioned in despatches. You will, too, be a greatservice to us, and will be able to give us a good many hints as to thisIndian method of fighting, which Braddock's men found so terrible. "

"It is not formidable, sir, when you are accustomed to it; but, unfortunately, General Braddock forced his men to fight in regularfashion, that is, to stand up and be shot at, and that mode offighting, in the woods, is fatal. A hundred redskins would be more thana match, in the forest, for ten times their number of white troops, whopersisted in fighting in such a ridiculous way; but, fighting in theirown way, white men are a match for the redskins. Indeed, thefrontiersmen can thrash the Indians, even if they are two or three toone against them. "

"You have been in this last affair on the lake, have you not, Mr. Walsham? I heard you were with Johnson. "

"Yes, sir, I was, and at the beginning it was very nearly a repetitionof Braddock's disaster; but, after being surprised and, at first, beaten, the column that went out made such a stout fight of it, that itgave us time to put the camp in a state of defence. Had the Indiansmade a rush, I think they would have carried it; but, as they contentedthemselves with keeping up a distant fire, the provincials, who wereall young troops, quite unaccustomed to fighting, and wholly withoutdrill or discipline, gradually got steady, and at length sallied outand beat them decisively. "

"I will not detain you, now, " the colonel said; "but I hope, ere long, you will give us a full and detailed account of the fighting you havebeen in, with your idea of the best way of training regular troops forthe sort of work we have before us. Mr. Edwards will take you over tothe mess, and introduce you to your brother officers. "

James was well received by the officers of his regiment, and soon foundhimself perfectly at home with them. He had to devote some hours, everyday, to acquiring the mysteries of drill. It was, to him, somewhatfunny to see the pains expended in assuring that each movement shouldbe performed with mechanical accuracy; but he understood that, althoughuseless for such warfare as that which they had before them, greataccuracy in details was necessary, for ensuring uniformity of movementamong large masses of men in an open country. 

Otherwise, the time passed very pleasantly. James soon became afavourite in the regiment, and the young officers were never tired ofquestioning him concerning the redskins, and their manner of fighting. There were plenty of amusements. The snow was deep on the ground, now, and the officers skated, practised with snowshoes, and drove insleighs. Occasionally they got up a dance, and the people of Albany, and the settlers round, vied with each other in their hospitality tothe officers. 

One day, in February, an orderly brought a message to James Walsham, that the colonel wished to speak to him. 

"Walsham, " he said, "I may tell you, privately, that the regiment islikely to form part of the expedition which is being fitted out, inEngland, against Louisbourg in Cape Breton, the key of Canada. Aconsiderable number of the troops from the province will accompany it. "

"But that will leave the frontier here altogether open to the enemy, "James said in surprise. 

"That is my own opinion, Walsham. Louisbourg is altogether outside therange of the present struggle, and it seems to me that the Britishforce should be employed at striking at a vital point. However, that isnot to the purpose. It is the Earl of Loudon's plan. However, it ismanifest, as you say, that the frontier will be left terribly open, andtherefore two companies of each of the regiments going will be left. Naturally, as you are the only officer in the regiment who has had anyexperience in this forest warfare, you would be one of those left here;but as an ensign you would not have much influence, and I think that itwould be at once more useful to the service, and more pleasant foryourself, if I can obtain for you something like a roving commission. What do you think of that?"

"I should greatly prefer that, sir, " James said gratefully. 

"The general is a little vexed, I know, " the colonel went on, "at thenumerous successes, and daring feats, gained by Rogers and the otherleaders of the companies of scouts, while the regulars have not had anopportunity to fire a shot: and I think that he would, at once, acceptthe proposal were I to make it to him, that a company, to be called theRoyal Scouts, should be formed of volunteers taken from the variousregiments, and that you should have the command. "

"Thank you, sir, " James said, "and I should like it above all things;but I fear that we should have no chance, whatever, of rivalling thework of Rogers and the other partisan leaders. These men are alltrained to the work of the woods, accustomed to fight Indians, equallyat home in a canoe or in the forest. I have had, as you are good enoughto say, some experience in the work, but I am a mere child by theirside, and were I to lead fifty English soldiers in the forest, I fearthat none of us would ever return. "

"Yes, but I should not propose that you should engage in enterprises ofthat sort, Walsham. My idea is that, although you would have anindependent command, with very considerable freedom of action, youwould act in connection with the regular troops. The scouts are oftenfar away when wanted, leaving the posts open to surprise. They are soimpatient of any discipline, that they are adverse to going near theforts, except to obtain fresh supplies. You, on the contrary, would actas the eyes of any post which you might think threatened by the enemy. At present, for instance, Fort William Henry is the most exposed toattack. 

"You would take your command there, and would report yourself to MajorEyre, who is in command. As for service there, your letter ofappointment would state that you are authorized to act independently, but that, while it would be your duty to obey the orders of thecommanding officer, you will be authorized to offer such suggestions tohim as your experience in Indian warfare would lead you to make. Youwould train your men as scouts. It would be their special duty to guardthe fort against surprise, and, of course, in case of attack to takepart in its defence. In the event of the provincial scouts making anyconcerted movement against a French post, you would be authorized tojoin them. You would then have the benefit of their skill andexperience, and, in case of success, the army would get a share of thecredit. What do you think of my plan?"

"I should like it above all things, " James replied. "That would beprecisely the duty which I should select had I the choice. "

"I thought so, " the colonel said. "I have formed a very high opinion ofyour judgment and discretion, from the talks which we have hadtogether, and I have spoken strongly in your favour to the general, whohad promised me that, in the event of the army moving forward, youshould have an appointment on the quartermaster general's staff, as anintelligence officer. 

"Since I heard that the main portion of the army is to sail toLouisbourg, I have been thinking this plan over, and it certainly seemsto me that a corps, such as that that I have suggested, would be ofgreat service. I should think that its strength should be fifty men. You will, of course, have another officer with you. Is there anyone youwould like to choose, as I may as well take the whole scheme, cut anddried, to the general?"

"I should like Mr. Edwards, sir. He is junior to me in the regiment, and is very active and zealous in the service; and I should greatlylike to be allowed to enlist, temporarily, two of the scouts I haveserved with in the force, with power for them to take their dischargewhen they wished. They would be of immense utility to me in instructingthe men in their new duties, and would add greatly to our efficiency. "

"So be it, " the colonel said. "I will draw out the scheme on paper, andlay it before the general today. "

In the afternoon, James was again sent for. 

"The earl has approved of my scheme. You will have temporary rank ascaptain given you, in order to place your corps on an equal footingwith the provincial corps of scouts. Mr. Edwards will also havetemporary rank, as lieutenant. The men of the six companies, of thethree regiments, will be paraded tomorrow, and asked for volunteers forthe special service. If there are more than fifty offer, you can selectyour own men. "

Accordingly, the next morning, the troops to be left behind wereparaded, and an order was read out, saying that a corps of scouts forspecial service was to be raised, and that volunteers were requested. Upwards of a hundred men stepped forward, and, being formed in line, James selected from them fifty who appeared to him the most hardy, active, and intelligent looking. He himself had, that morning, been putin orders as captain of the new corps, and had assumed the insignia ofhis temporary rank. The colonel had placed at his disposal twointelligent young non-commissioned officers. 

The next morning, he marched with his command for Fort William Henry. No sooner had he left the open country, and entered the woods, than hebegan to instruct the men in their new duties. The whole of them werethrown out as skirmishers, and taught to advance in Indian fashion, each man sheltering himself behind a tree, scanning the woods carefullyahead, and then, fixing his eyes on another tree ahead, to advance toit at a sharp run, and shelter there. 

All this was new to the soldiers, hitherto drilled only in solidformation, or in skirmishing in the open, and when, at the end of tenmiles skirmishing through the wood, they were halted and ordered tobivouac for the night, James felt that his men were beginning to havesome idea of forest fighting. The men themselves were greatly pleasedwith their day's work. It was a welcome change after the long monotonyof life in a standing camp, and the day's work had given them a highopinion of the fitness of their young officer for command. 

But the work and instruction was not over for the day. Hitherto, noneof the men had had any experience in camping in the open. James nowshowed them how to make comfortable shelters against the cold, with twoforked sticks and one laid across them, and with a few boughs and ablanket laid over them, with dead leaves heaped round the bottom andends; and how best to arrange their fires and cook their food. 

During the following days, the same work was repeated, and when, aftera week's marching, the force issued from the forest into the clearingaround Fort William Henry, James felt confident that his men would beable to hold their own in a brush with the Indians. Major Eyre, to whomJames reported himself, and showed his appointment defining hisauthority and duties, expressed much satisfaction at the arrival of thereinforcement. 

"There are rumours, brought here by the scouts, " he said, "that astrong force will, ere long, come down from Crown Point to Ticonderoga, and that we shall be attacked. Now that the lake is frozen, regulartroops could march without difficulty, and my force here is veryinadequate, considering the strength with which the French will attack. None of my officers or men have any experience of the Indian methods ofattack, and your experience will be very valuable. It is a pity thatthey do not give me one of these companies of scouts permanently. Sometimes one or other of them is here, but often I am without any ofthe provincials, and, although I have every confidence in my officersand men, one cannot but feel that it is a great disadvantage to beexposed to the attack of an enemy of whose tactics one is altogetherignorant. 

"You will, of course, encamp your men inside the fort. I see you havebrought no baggage with you, but I have some spare tents here, whichare at your service. "

"Thank you, sir, " James replied; "I shall be glad to put the men undercover, while they are here, but I intend to practise them, as much aspossible, in scouting and camping in the woods, and, although I shallalways be in the neighbourhood of the fort, I do not propose always toreturn here at night. Are any of Captain Rogers's corps at present atthe fort?"

"Some of them came in last night, " Major Eyre replied. 

"I have authority, " James said, "to enlist two of them in my corps. "

Major Eyre smiled. 

"I do not think you will find any of them ready to submit to militarydiscipline, or to put on a red coat. "

"They are all accustomed to obey orders, promptly enough, when atwork, " James said, "though there is no attempt at discipline when offduty. You see them at their worst here. There is, of course, nothinglike military order in the woods, but obedience is just as prompt asamong our troops. As to the uniform, I agree with you, but on that headI should not be particular. I can hardly fancy any of the scoutsbuttoned tightly up with stiff collars; but as, after all, althoughthey are to be enlisted, they will be attached to the corps, ratherthan be regular members of it, I do not think I need insist upon theuniform. "

After leaving the major, James saw to the pitching of the tents, andthe comforts of his men, and when he had done so strolled off towards agroup of scouts, who were watching his proceedings, and among whom herecognized the two men for whom he was looking. 

He received a cordial greeting from all who had taken part in hisprevious adventures with Captain Rogers's band. 

"And so you are in command of this party?" Nat said. "I asked one ofthe men just now, and he said you were the captain. You are young to bea captain, but, at any rate, it's a good thing to have a king's officerhere who knows something about the woods. The rest ain't no more ideaof them than nothing. "

"I want to chat to you, Nat, and also to Jonathan, if you will comeacross with me to my tent. "

"I'm agreeable, " Nat said; and the two scouts walked across to the tentwith James. 

Lieutenant Edwards, who shared the tent with him, was inside, arranginga few things which Major Eyre had sent down for their use. 

"Edwards, these are the two scouts, Nat and Jonathan, of whom you haveoften heard me speak. Now, let us sit down and have a chat. 

"There is some first-rate rum in that bottle, Nat. There are two tinpannikins, and there is water in that keg. 

"Now, Nat, " he went on, when the party were seated on blankets laid onthe ground, "this corps of mine has been raised, specially, to act asscouts round this or any other fort which may be threatened, or to actas the advanced guard of a column of troops. "

"But what do they know of scouting?" Nat said contemptuously. "Theydon't know no more than children. "

"They don't know much, but they are active fellows, and ready to learn. I think you will find that, already, they have a pretty fair idea offighting in Indian fashion in the woods, and, as I have authority todraw extra supplies of ball cartridge, I hope, in a few weeks, to makefair shots of them. You have taught me something of forest ways, and Ishall teach them all I know; but we want better teachers, and I want topropose, to you and Jonathan, to join the corps. "

"What, and put on a red coat, and choke ourselves up with a stiffcollar!" Nat laughed. "Nice figures we should look! No, no, captain, that would never do. "

"No, I don't propose that you should wear uniform, Nat. I have got aspecial authority to enlist you and Jonathan, with the understandingthat you can take your discharge whenever you like. There will be nodrilling in line, or anything of that sort. It will be just scoutingwork, the same as with Captain Rogers, except that we shall not makelong expeditions, as he does, but keep in the neighbourhood of thefort. I should want you to act both as scouts and instructors, to teachthe men, as you have taught me, something of woodcraft, how to findtheir way in a forest, and how to fight the Indians in their own way, and to be up to Indian devices. You will be guides on the line ofmarch, will warn me of danger, and suggest the best plan of meeting it. You will, in fact, be scouts attached to the corps, only nominally youwill be members of it. I know your ways, and should not exact anyobservance of discipline, more than that which you have with Rogers, and should treat you in the light of non-commissioned officers. "

"Well, and what do you say, Jonathan?" Nat said, turning to his tallcompanion. "You and I have both taken a fancy to the captain here, andthough he has picked up a lot for a young 'un, and will in time make afirst-rate hand in the woods, I guess he won't make much hand of it, yet, if he hadn't got someone as knows the woods by his side. We havehad a spell of hard work of it with Rogers lately, and I don't mind ifI have a change, for a bit, with the redcoats. "

"I will go, of course, " Jonathan said briefly. 

"Very well, then, that's settled, captain, " Nat said. "Rogers will bein tonight, and I will tell him we are going to transfer ourselves overto you. "

"He won't mind, I hope, " James said. 

"He won't mind, " Nat replied. "We ain't very particular about times ofservice in our corps. We just comes and goes, pretty well as the fancytakes us. They would never get us to join, if they wanted to get us tobind down hard and fast. Sometimes they start on an expedition fiftystrong, next time perhaps not more than thirty turns up. 

"Is there anything to do to join the corps?"

"Not much, Nat. I give you each a shilling and attest you, that is tosay, swear you in to serve the king, and, in your case, give you apaper saying that you are authorized to take your discharge, whensoeverit pleases you. "

"Very well, captain. Then on those terms we join, always understood aswe don't have to put on red coats. "

The two men were sworn in, and then Nat, standing up, said:

"And now, captain, discipline is discipline. What's your orders?"

James went to the door of the tent, and called the sergeant. 

"Sergeant, these two men are enlisted as scouts in the corps. They willdraw rations, and be a regular part of the company like the rest, butthey will not wear uniform, acting only as scouts. They will have therank and position of corporals, and will specially instruct the men inwoodcraft, and in the ways of the Indians. They will, of course, occupythe tent with the non-commissioned officers, and will mess with them. Being engaged as scouts, only, they will in other respects be free fromanything like strictness. I trust that you will do what you can to makethem comfortable. "

The sergeant saluted, and led the two scouts over to the tent occupiedby himself and the other non-commissioned officers, and the roars oflaughter that issued from it in the course of the evening, at theanecdotes of the scouts, showed that the newcomers were likely to behighly popular characters in their mess. 

Chapter 13: An Abortive Attack. 

Three weeks passed. James kept his men steadily at work, and even thescouts allowed that they made great progress. Sometimes they went outin two parties, with an officer and a scout to each, and their pouchesfilled with blank cartridge. Each would do its best to surprise theother; and, when they met, a mimic fight would take place, the mensheltering behind trees, and firing only when they obtained a glimpseof an adversary. 

"I did not think that these pipe-clayed soldiers could have been sospry, " Nat said to James. "They have picked up wonderfully, and Iwouldn't mind going into an Indian fight with them. They are improvingwith their muskets. Their shooting yesterday wasn't bad, by no means. In three months' time, they will be as good a lot to handle as any ofthe companies of scouts. "

Besides the daily exercises, the company did scouting work at night, ten men being out, by turns, in the woods bordering the lake. At oneo'clock in the morning, on the 19th of March, Nat came into theofficers' tent. 

"Captain, " he said, "get up. There's something afoot. "

"What is it, Nat?" James asked, as he threw off his rugs. 

"It's the French, at least I don't see who else it can be. It was myturn tonight to go round and look after our sentries. When I came toJim Bryan, who was stationed just at the edge of the lake, I said tohim, 'Anything new, Jim?' and he says, 'Yes; seems to me as I can heara hammering in the woods. ' I listens, and sure enough axes were going. It may be some three miles down. The night is still, and the icebrought the sound. 

"'That's one for you, Jim, ' says I. 'Them's axes sure enough. ' I standsand looks, and then a long way down the lake on the left I sees a faintglare. They had had the sense to light the fires where we couldn't seethem; but there were the lights, sure enough. It's the French, captain, the redskins would never have made fires like that, and if it had beena party of our scouts, they would have come on here, and not halted anhour's tramp away. 

"You had best get the troops under arms, captain. Who would havethought they would have been such fools as to light their fires withinsight of the fort!"

James at once went to Major Eyre's quarters, and aroused him, and in afew minutes the garrison were all under arms. Their strength, includingJames Walsham's corps, and some scouts of the company of John Stark, numbered three hundred and forty-six men, besides which there were ahundred and twenty-eight invalids in hospital. 

Two hours passed, and then a confused sound, as of a great body of menmoving on the ice, was heard. The ice was bare of snow, and nothingcould be seen, but the cannon on the side facing the lake at onceopened fire, with grape and round shot, in the direction of the sound. 

After firing for a few minutes, they were silent. The sound on the icecould no longer be heard. 

"They have taken to the woods, " Nat, who had taken up his station nextto James Walsham, said. "It ain't likely they would stop on the icewith the balls pounding it up. "

"Do you think they will attack before morning?" James asked. 

"It ain't likely, " Nat replied. "They won't know the positions, and, such a dark night as this, they wouldn't be able to make out anythingabout them. If they could have come straight along the ice to the headof the lake here, they would have made a dash, no doubt; but now theyfind we ain't to be caught asleep, I expect they will wait tillmorning. "

Again the sound of axes was heard in the wood, and the glare of lightappeared above the trees. 

"There must be a tidy lot of 'em, " Nat said. 

"Do you think it will be any use to go out and try to surprise them?"

"Not a bit, captain. They are sure to have a lot of redskins with them, and they will be lurking in the woods, in hopes that we may try such amove. No; we have got a strong position here, and can lick them threeto one; but in the woods, except Stark's men, and perhaps yours, noneof the others wouldn't be no good at all. "

Mayor Eyre, shortly afterwards, sent for James, who gave him theopinion of the scout, and the major then ordered the troops to getunder shelter again, leaving Stark's men to act as sentries, for thenight was bitterly cold. 

It was not until ten o'clock next day that the French appeared, and, surrounding the fort on all sides, except on that of the lake, openedheavy musketry fire upon it. They were a formidable body. Vaudreuil, the governor of Canada, had spared no pains to make the blow asuccessful one. The force had been assembled at Crown Point, andnumbered sixteen hundred regulars, Canadians, and Indians. Everythingneedful for their comfort had been provided--overcoats, blankets, bearskins to sleep on, and tarpaulins to cover them. They had been providedwith twelve days' provisions, which were placed on hand sledges anddrawn by the troops. 

They marched, over the ice of Lake Champlain, down to Ticonderoga, where they rested a week, and constructed three hundred scalingladders. Three days' further march, up Lake George, brought them to theEnglish fort. 

The weak point of the expedition was its leader, for Vaudreuil, who washimself a Canadian, had the greatest jealousy of the French officers, and had intrusted the command of the expedition to his brother, Rigaud. 

The fire did no damage, as the garrison lay sheltered behind theirentrenchments, replying occasionally whenever the enemy mustered inforce, as if with an intention of attacking. 

"I don't think they mean business, this time, captain, " Nat said in atone of disgust. "Why, there are enough of them to eat us, if theycould but make up their minds to come on. They don't suppose they aregoing to take William Henry by blazing a way at it half a mile off!"

"Perhaps they are going to make a night attack, " James said. "They willhave learned all about the position of our works. "

"Maybe so, " Nat replied; "but I don't think so. When chaps don't attackat once, when there are four or five to one, I reckon that they ain'tlikely to attack at all. They meant to surprise us, and they haven't, and it seems to me as it has taken all the heart out of them. "

As evening approached, the fire ceased. At nightfall, strong guardswere placed round the entrenchments, and the troops retired to theirquarters, ready to turn out at a minute's notice. 

About midnight they were called out. There was again a sound on thelake. The cannon at once opened, and, as before, all was silent again. 

"Look, Walsham, look!" Edwards exclaimed. "They have set fire to thesloops. "

As he spoke, a tongue of flame started up from one of the two vesselslying in the ice, close to the shore, and, almost simultaneously, flames shot up from among the boats drawn up on the beach. 

"That's redskin work, " Nat exclaimed. 

"Come, lads, " James cried, leaping down from the low earthwork into theditch. "Let us save the boats, if we can. "

The scouts followed him and ran down to the shore; but the Indians haddone their work well. The two sloops, and many of the boats, were wellalight, and it was evident at once that, long before a hole could bebroken through the ice, and buckets brought down from the fort, theywould be beyond all hopes of saving them. 

The French, too, opened fire from the woods bordering the lake, and, asthe light of the flames exposed his men to the enemy's marksmen, Jamesat once called them back to the fort, and the sloops and boats burnedthemselves out. 

At noon, next day, the French filed out from the woods on to the ice, at a distance of over a mile. 

"What now?" Edwards exclaimed. "They surely don't mean to be foolsenough to march across the ice to attack us in broad daylight. "

"It looks to me, " James replied, "as if they wanted to make a full showof their force. See, there is a white flag, and a party are comingforward. "

An officer and several men advanced towards the fort, and Major Eyresent out one of his officers, with an equal number of men, to meetthem. There was a short parley when the parties came together, and thenthe French officer advanced towards the fort with the English, hisfollowers remaining on the ice. 

On nearing the fort, the French officer, Le Mercier, chief of theCanadian artillery, was blindfolded, and led to the room where MajorEyre, with all the British officers, was awaiting him. The handkerchiefwas then removed from his eyes, and he announced to the commandant thathe was the bearer of a message from the officer commanding the Frenchforce, who, being desirous of avoiding an effusion of blood, begged theEnglish commander to abstain from resistance, which, against a force sosuperior to his own, could but be useless. He offered the mostfavourable terms, if he would surrender the place peaceably, but saidthat if he were driven to make an assault, his Indian allies wouldunquestionably massacre the whole garrison. 

Major Eyre quietly replied that he intended to defend himself to theutmost. 

The envoy was again blindfolded. When he rejoined the French force, thelatter at once advanced as if to attack the place, but soon halted, and, leaving the ice, opened a fusillade from the border of the woods, which they kept up for some hours, the garrison contemptuouslyabstaining from any reply. 

At night, the French were heard advancing again, the sound coming fromall sides. The garrison stood to their arms, believing that this timethe real attack was about to be made. 

Nearer and nearer came the sound, and the garrison, who could seenothing in the pitchy darkness, fired wherever they could hear a sound. Presently a bright light burst up. The redskins, provided with faggotsof resinous sticks, had crept up towards some buildings, consisting ofseveral store houses, a hospital, and saw mill, and the huts and tentsof the rangers, and, having placed their torches against them, set themon fire and instantly retreated. The garrison could do nothing to savethe buildings, as their efforts, in the absence of water, must beunavailing, and they would have been shot down by the foe lying beyondthe circle of light. They therefore remained lying behind theentrenchment, firing wherever they heard the slightest sound, andmomentarily expecting an attack; but morning came without the Frenchadvancing, and the garrison were then able to give their wholeattention to saving the buildings in the fort. 

Some great wood stacks had now ignited, and the burning embers fellthickly on the huts, and for some hours it was only by the greatestexertions that the troops were able to save the buildings fromdestruction. Every moment they expected to be attacked, for, had theFrench advanced, the huts must have been left to themselves, in whichcase the garrison would have found themselves shelterless, and alltheir provisions and stores would have been consumed; but before noonthe danger was over, for not only had the fires begun to burn low, buta heavy snow storm set in. All day it continued. 

"Now would be the time for them to attack, " James Walsham said to hislieutenant. "We can scarce see twenty yards away. "

"Now is their chance, " Edwards agreed; "but I don't believe in theirattacking. I can't think who they have got in command. He ought to beshot, a man with such a force as he has, hanging about here for fourdays when he could have carried the place, with a rush, any moment. "

"No, I don't think they will attack, " James replied. "Men who will stopto light a fire to warm themselves, within sight of an enemy's fortthey want to surprise, are not likely to venture out of shelter oftheir blankets in such a snow as this. "

All day and all night the snow came down, till the ground was coveredto a depth of over three feet. Early on Tuesday morning, twentyvolunteers of the French regulars made a bold attempt to burn a sloopbuilding on the stocks, with several storehouses and other structuresnear the water, and some hundreds of boats and canoes which were rangednear them. They succeeded in firing the sloop, and some buildings, butJames, with his scouts, sallied out and forced them to retreat, withthe loss of five of their number; and, by pulling down some of thehuts, prevented the fire spreading. 

Next morning the sun rose brightly, and the white sheet of the lake wasdotted with the French, in full retreat for Canada. Their total losshad been eleven killed and wounded, while, on the English side, sevenmen had been wounded, all slightly. Never was a worse conducted or morefutile expedition. 

After this affair, the time passed slowly at Fort William Henry. Untilthe sun gained strength enough to melt the thick white covering of theearth, James practised his men in the use of snowshoes, and, as soon asspring had fairly commenced, resumed the work of scouting. This wasdone only as an exercise, for there was no fear that, after such ahumiliating failure, the French would, for some time to come, attemptanother expedition against the fort. 

In the autumn of 1756, General Montcalm had come out from France totake the command of the French troops. Few of the superior officers ofthe French army cared to take the command, in a country where the workwas hard and rough, and little glory was to be obtained. Therefore theminister of war was able, for once, to choose an officer fitted for thepost, instead of being obliged, as usual, to fill up the appointment bya court favourite. 

The Marquis of Montcalm was born at the chateau of Candiac, near Nimes, on the 29th of February, 1712. At the age of fifteen, up to which timehe had studied hard, he entered the army. Two years later he became acaptain, and was first under fire at the siege of Philipsbourg. In 1736he married Mademoiselle Du Boulay, who brought him influentialconnections and some property. In 1741 Montcalm took part in thecampaign in Bohemia. Two years later he was made colonel, and passedunharmed through the severe campaign of 1744. 

In the following year he fought in the campaign in Italy, and, in 1746, was wounded at the disastrous action at Piacenza, where he twicerallied his regiment, received five sabre cuts, and was made prisoner. He was soon liberated on parole, and was promoted, in the followingyear, to the rank of brigadier general, and, being exchanged for anofficer of similar rank, rejoined the army, and was again wounded by amusket shot. Shortly afterwards the peace of Aix la Chapelle wassigned, and Montcalm remained living quietly with his family, to whomhe was tenderly attached, until informed, by the minister of war, thathe had selected him to command the troops in North America, with therank of major general. The Chevalier de Levis was appointed second incommand. 

No sooner did Montcalm arrive in America, than difficulties arosebetween him and the Marquis de Vaudreuil, the governor, who had hopedto have himself received the appointment of commander of the Frenchforces, and who, in virtue of his office, commanded the Canadianmilitia. 

From first to last this man opposed and thwarted Montcalm, doing all inhis power to injure him, by reports to France in his disfavour. Themisfortunes which befell France during the war were, in no slightdegree, due to this divided authority, and to the obstacles thrown inthe way of Montcalm by the governor. 

Montcalm's first blow against the English was struck in August, 1756, six months before the attack on Fort William Henry, which had beenarranged by Vaudreuil. Three battalions of regular troops, with 700Canadians and 250 Indians, with a strong force of artillery, werequietly concentrated at Fort Frontenac, and were intended for an attackupon the important English post of Oswego. Fighting had been going onin this neighbourhood for some time, and it was from Oswego thatShirley had intended to act against Niagara and Frontenac. Thatenterprise had fallen through, owing to Shirley having been deprived ofthe command; but a sharp fight had taken place between ColonelBradstreet and his armed boatmen, and 1100 French, who were beaten off. 

Oswego was a place of extreme importance. It was the only English poston Ontario, situated as it was towards the southwest corner of thelake. So long as it remained in their possession, it was a standingmenace against the whole line of communications of the French with thesouth. Owing to gross neglect, the fort had never been placed in areally defensive condition. The garrison was small, and crippled withthe fever, which had carried off great numbers of them. The remainderwere ill fed and discontented. 

On the 12th of August, the Earl of London sent Colonel Webb, with the44th Regiment and some of Bradstreet's boatmen, to reinforce Oswego. They should have started a month before, and, had they done so, wouldhave been in time; but confusion and misunderstanding had arisen from achange in command. Webb had scarcely made half his march, when tidingsof the disaster met him, and he at once fell back with the greatestprecipitation. 

At midnight on the 10th, Montcalm had landed his force within half aleague of the first English fort. Four cannon were at once landed, anda battery thrown up, and so careless of danger were the garrison, thatit was not till the morning that the invaders were discovered. Twoarmed vessels at once sailed down to cannonade them; but their lightguns were no match for the heavy artillery of the French, and they wereforced to retire. 

The attack was commenced without delay. The Indians and Canadians, swarming in the forest round the fort, kept up a hot fire upon it. Bynightfall the first parallel was marked out at 180 yards from therampart. 

Fort Ontario, considered the strongest of the three forts at Oswego, stood on a high plateau on the right side of the river, where itentered the lake. It was in the shape of a star, and formed of apalisade of trunks of trees set upright in the ground, hewn flat onboth sides, and closely fitted together--an excellent defence againstmusketry, but worthless against artillery. The garrison of the fort, 370 in number, had eight small cannon and a mortar, with which, allnext day, they kept up a brisk fire against the battery which theFrench were throwing up, and arming with twenty-six pieces of heavyartillery. 

Colonel Mercer, the commandant of Oswego, saw at once that the Frenchartillery would, as soon as they opened fire, blow the stockade intopieces, and thinking it better to lose the fort, alone, than the fortand its garrison, he sent boats across the river after nightfall, andthe garrison, having spiked their guns, and thrown their ammunitioninto the well, crossed the river, unperceived by the French. 

But Oswego was in no position for defence. Fort Pepperell stood on themouth of the river, facing Fort Ontario. Towards the west and south theplace was protected by an outer line of earthworks, mounted withcannon, but the side facing the river was wholly exposed, in the beliefthat Fort Ontario would prevent any attack in this direction. 

Montcalm lost no time. The next evening, his whole force set to workthrowing up a battery, at the edge of the rising ground on which FortOntario stood, and, by daybreak, twenty heavy guns were in position, and at once opened fire. The grape and round shot swept the Englishposition, smashing down the mud-built walls, crashing through thestockades, and carrying destruction among the troops. The latter made ashelter of pork barrels, three high and three deep, and planted cannonbehind them, and returned the enemy's fire; but the Canadians andIndians had crossed the river, by a ford two miles up, and soon openedfire from all sides. 

Colonel Mercer, who had bravely led his men, and inspired them by hisexample, was cut in two by a cannon shot, and the garrison were seizedwith despair. A council of officers was held, and the garrisonsurrendered as prisoners of war, to the number of sixteen hundred, which included sick, the sailors belonging to the shipping, labourers, and upwards of a hundred women. 

Montcalm had the greatest difficulty in preventing the Indians, bymeans of threats, promises, and presents, from massacring theprisoners. Oswego was burned to the ground, the forts and vessels onthe stocks destroyed, and, the place having been made a desert, thearmy returned with their prisoners and spoil to Montreal. 

The loss of Oswego had inflicted a very severe blow to the influenceand prestige of England, among the Indians of the lake districts, butthis was partly restored by the failure of the French expeditionagainst William Henry, early in the following spring. 

The expedition against Louisbourg, to strengthen which the westernfrontier had been denuded of troops, proved a failure. A great delayhad taken place at home, in consequence of ministerial changes, and itwas not until the 5th of May that fifteen ships of the line and threefrigates, under Admiral Holbourne, with 5000 troops on board, sailedfrom England for Halifax, where Loudon was to meet him with the forcesfrom the colony. But, while the English fleet had been delaying, theFrench government had obtained information of its destination, and hadsent three French squadrons across the Atlantic to Louisbourg. 

It was the 10th of July before the united English force assembled atHalifax, and there fresh delays arose. The troops, nearly twelvethousand in number, were landed, and weeks were spent in idle drill. 

At the beginning of August the forces were again embarked, when a sloopcame in from Newfoundland, bringing letters which had been captured onboard a French ship. From these, it appeared that there were twenty-twoships of the line, besides several frigates, in the harbour ofLouisbourg, and that 7000 troops were in garrison, in what was by farthe strongest fortress on the continent. 

Success was now impossible, and the enterprise was abandoned. Loudon, with his troops, sailed back to New York; and Admiral Holbourne, whohad been joined by four additional ships, sailed for Louisbourg, inhopes that the French fleet would come out and fight him. He cruisedfor some time off the port, but Lamotte, the French admiral, would notcome out. 

In September, a tremendous gale burst upon the British fleet: one shipwas dashed on the rocks, a short distance from Louisbourg, and only asudden shift of the wind saved the rest from a total destruction. Ninewere dismasted, and others threw their cannon into the sea. Had Lamottesailed out on the following day, the English fleet was at his mercy. Fortunately he did not do so, and Holbourne returned to England. 

The French in Canada were aware that Loudon had gathered all his troopsat New York, and was preparing for an expedition, which was to be aidedby a fleet from England; but, thinking it probable that it was directedagainst Quebec, the most vital point in Canada, since its occupation bythe English would entirely cut the colony off from France, Montcalm wasobliged to keep his forces in hand near that town, and was unable totake advantage of the unprotected state in which Loudon had left thefrontier of the colonies. 

As soon, however, as, by despatch received from France, and by thestatements of prisoners captured by the Indians on the frontier, Montcalm learned that the expedition, which had just left New York, wasdestined for Louisbourg, he was at liberty to utilize his army for theinvasion of the defenceless colonies, and he determined to commence thecampaign by the capture of Fort William Henry. 

James Walsham, with his company of Royal Scouts, had spent the springat Fort William Henry. Loudon had, at first, sent an order for thecorps to be broken up, and the men to rejoin their respectiveregiments, and to accompany them on the expedition; but the earnestrepresentations of Colonel Monro of the 35th Regiment, who was now incommand, of the total inadequacy of the garrison to defend itself, should a serious attack be made from Ticonderoga; and of the greatvalue to him of the corps under Captain Walsham, which was nowthoroughly trained in forest fighting, induced him to countermand theorder. 

James was glad that he was not obliged to rejoin his regiment. Theindependent command was a pleasant one, and although life at FortWilliam Henry had, since the French repulse, been an uneventful one, there was plenty of fishing in the lake, and shooting in the woods, tovary the monotony of drill. 

He and Edwards were now both expert canoemen, and often ventured fardown the lake, taking with them one or other of the scouts, and keepinga sharp lookout among the woods on either side for signs of the enemy. Once or twice they were chased by Indian canoes, but always succeededin distancing them. 

"The news has just come in that the expedition has sailed, " James saidas he one day, towards the end of July, entered the hut which he nowoccupied with Edwards; for the corps had long since been put underhuts, these being better suited for the hot season than tents. 

"It is rather a nuisance, " Edwards grumbled, "being kept here, insteadof going and taking share in a big siege. "

"Don't be impatient, Edwards, " James replied. "If I am not greatlymistaken, you will have quite as much fighting as you want here beforelong. Montcalm's sudden attack on Oswego last autumn showed that he isan enterprising general, and I have no doubt that, as soon as he learnsthat Loudon's expedition is not intended for Quebec, he will be beatingus up on the frontier with a vengeance. "

Montcalm, indeed, had already prepared to strike a blow. A thousandIndians, lured by the prospect of gifts, scalps, and plunder, had comein from the west and north, and were encamped near Montreal; and, besides these, there were the Mission Indians, and those of the FiveNations who adhered to France. 

Early in July, the movement began. Day after day, fleets of boats andcanoes rowed up Lake Champlain, and, towards the end of the month, thewhole force was gathered at Ticonderoga. Here were now collected eightthousand men, of whom two thousand were Indians, representing forty-onetribes and sub-tribes: among them were Iroquois, Hurons, Nipissings, Abenakis, Algonkins, Micmacs, and Malecites. These were all nominalChristians, and counted eight hundred warriors. With them were thewestern Indians: Ojibwas, Mississagas, Pottawattamies, Menomonies, Sacs, Foxes, Winnebagoes, Miamis, and Iowas. These were stillunconverted. 

The French held these savage allies in abhorrence. Their drunkenness, their turbulence, their contempt of all orders, their cruelty to theircaptives, and their cannibalism, disgusted and shocked Montcalm and hisofficers; but they were powerless to restrain them, for without them asscouts, guides, and eyes in the forests, the French could have donenothing, and, at the slightest remonstrance, the Indians were ready totake offence, and to march away to their distant homes. 

The letters of Montcalm and his officers, to their friends, were fullof disgust at the doings of their savage allies, and of regret thatthey could not dispense with their services, or restrain theirferocity. Vaudreuil and the Canadians, on the other hand, accustomed tothe traditions of savage warfare, made no attempt whatever to check theferocity of the Indians, and were, indeed, the instigators of the raidswhich the savages made upon the unprotected villages and settlements onthe frontier; offered rewards for scalps, and wrote and talkedgleefully of the horrible atrocities committed upon the colonists. 

Chapter 14: Scouting On Lake Champlain. 

One morning, Colonel Monro sent for James. 

"Captain Walsham, " he said, "there are rumours that the French aregathering at Crown Point in considerable force. Captain Rogers is stilldisabled by his wound, and his band have suffered so heavily, in theirlast affair with the enemy, that for the time they are out of action. It is important that I should learn the truth of these rumours, for, ifthey be true, I must communicate at once to the general, in order thathe may get together a sufficient force to relieve us, if Montcalm comesdown and lays siege to the fort. Will you undertake the business?"

"I will do my best, sir, " James replied. "Do you propose that I shouldtake all my company, or only a picked party?"

"That I will leave to you, Captain Walsham. I want trustworthy news, and how you obtain it for me matters little. "

"Then I will take only a small party, " James said. "Fifty men would beuseless, for purposes of fighting, if the enemy are numerous, whilewith such a number it would be hopeless to attempt to escape detectionby the Indians. The fewer the better for such an enterprise. "

On leaving the commandant, James at once summoned the two hunters tohis hut, and told them the mission he had received. 

"I am ready, captain, that is if you, and I, and Jonathan makes up theparty. As to going trapezing about round Crown Point with fiftysoldiers, the thing ain't to be thought of. We should be there no morethan half an hour before the Indians would know of it, and we shouldhave no show either for fighting or running away. No, captain, the ladsare good enough for scouting about round camp here; but, as for anexpedition of that sort, we might as well start with a drove of swine. "

"That is just what I thought, Nat. One canoe may escape even the eyesof the Indians, but a dozen would have no chance of doing so. "

"We might get up the lakes, " the scout said; "but the mischief would bein the woods. No, it never would do, captain. If we goes, it must bethe three of us and no more. When do you think of starting?"

"The sooner the better, Nat. "

"Very well, captain, I will go and get some grub ready, and, as soon asit gets dusk, we will get the canoe into the water. "

"I suppose you can't take me with you?" Lieutenant Edwards said, whenJames told him of the duty he had been requested to perform. "It isdismal here. "

"Not exactly, " James laughed. "What would become of the company, if itwere to lose its two officers and its two scouts at a blow! No, Edwards, you will command during my absence, and I think you will soonhave more lively times here, for, if it be true that Montcalm willhimself command the troops coming against us, it will be a differentbusiness altogether from the last. And now, leave me alone for an hour. I have some letters to write before I start. They will be for you tosend off, in case we don't come back again. 

"Don't look serious, I have no intention of falling into the hands ofMontcalm's savages. Still, there is no doubt the expedition is a riskyone, and it is just as well to be prepared. "

Just as the sun was setting, Nat came into the officer's hut. 

"Everything is ready, captain, " he said. "I hope you have made a gooddinner, for it's the last hot meal you will eat, till you get back. Ihave cooked enough meat for the next four days, and that's about aslong as it will keep good; after that, dried deer's flesh will have todo for us. 

"I expect, I tell you, we shall have to be pretty spry this time. Ifthey are coming down in force, they are sure to send a lot of theirIndians through the woods on each side of the lake, and the water willbe swarming with their canoes. Jonathan and I have been talking itover, and trying to settle which would be the safest, to foot it allthe way, or to go by water. We concluded, as there ain't muchdifference, and the canoe will be the quickest and easiest, so we hadbest keep to that plan. "

"I would certainly rather go that way, Nat, if you think that thedanger is no greater. "

"No, I don't think there's much difference, captain. At any rate, wemay as well go that way. Like enough, we shall have to tramp back bythe woods. "

Half an hour later, the canoe put out. Although they had little fearthat any of the Indian canoes would be so far up Lake George, there wasscarce a word spoken in the boat for some hours after starting. Jonathan was always silent, and Nat, although talkative enough when incamp, was a man of few words when once embarked upon a seriousexpedition. As for James, he had little inclination for conversation. 

The enterprise was, he knew, one of extreme danger. Had it been only aFrench force he was about to reconnoitre, or even one composed ofFrench and Canadians together, he would have thought little of it; buthe knew that the redskins would be roaming thickly in the forest, aheadof the army, and, much as he relied upon the skill and experience ofthe two scouts, he knew it would be difficult, indeed, to elude theirwatchful eyes. He thought of the letters he had been writing, andwondered whether he should return to tear them up, or whether theywould be read at home. 

All the time he was thinking, he worked his paddle vigorously, and at ahigh rate of speed. The light canoe bounded noiselessly over the water, impelled by three vigorous pairs of arms. 

When they approached the narrows connecting Lake George with LakeChamplain, the boat's head was directed towards the shore, for theycould not get past Ticonderoga before daylight broke; and it was likelythat a good watch would be kept, in the narrows, by the enemy; and itwould be dangerous to try to effect a landing there. The canoe wascarried ashore, and hidden in some bushes, and all lay down to sleep. 

When day broke, Nat rose and went down to the water to see that, inlanding, they had left no mark upon the shore, which might betray themto the eye of a passing redskin. Going down on his hands and knees, heobliterated every sign of their footprints, raised the herbage uponwhich they had trodden, cut short to the ground such stalks as they hadbruised or broken in their passage, and then, when confident that allwas safe, he returned to his camp. When it again became dark, the canoewas carried down and replaced in the water, and they continued theirpassage. James had, at Nat's request, laid by his paddle. 

"You paddle wonderfully well, captain. I don't say you don't; but for adelicate piece of work like this, one can't be too careful. It ain'toften I can hear your paddle dip in the water, not once in a hundredtimes, but then, you see, that once might cost us our scalps. We havegot to go along as silent as a duck swimming. Speed ain't no object, for we shall be miles down Lake Champlain before daylight; but, if theFrench know their business, they will have half a dozen canoes in thesenarrows, to prevent us scouting on Lake Champlain; and, you see, theyhave got all the advantage of us, 'cause they've got just to lie quietand listen, and we have got to row on. As far as seeing goes, I canmake them out as soon as they can make us out; but they can hear us, while they won't give our ears a chance. 

"I tell you, captain, I don't expect to get through this narrowswithout a chase for it. If it come to running, of course you will takeyour paddle again, and we three can show our heels to any canoe on thelakes, perviding of course as it's only a starn chase. If there arethree or four of them, then I don't say as it won't be a close thing. "

James accordingly lay quietly back in the boat, while his companionstook the paddles. It was not necessary for him either to look out, orto listen, for he knew that his companions' eyes and ears were quickerthan his own. It had been agreed, before starting, that they should goalong close to the trees, on the left-hand side of the passage, becausethe keenest lookout would be kept on the right-hand side, as that wouldnaturally be chosen by any boat going up, as being farthest from theFrench fort. 

"There is no fear, whatever, of our being seen from the land, " Nat hadsaid. "The redskins would know that so well that they wouldn't troubleto look out. It's only canoes we have got to be afraid of, and, as tothem, it's just a chance. They might see us out in the light waters, inthe middle; but, under the trees, they can't make us out thirty yardsoff. They will be lying there, quiet, if they are there at all, and weshall either get past them safe, or we shall pretty nigh run into them. It's just chance, and there's nothing to do for it but to paddle asnoiselessly as fish, and trust to our luck. "

Having crossed the lake to the left shore, they entered the narrows. The paddles were dipped so quietly into the water, that even Jamescould scarcely hear their sound. Every few strokes the scouts stoppedpaddling altogether, and sat listening intently. They were keepingclose to the trees, so close that, at times, it seemed to James that, by stretching out his hands, he could touch the bushes. 

After an hour's paddling they stopped longer than usual. 

"What is it?" James whispered in Jonathan's ear, for Nat had taken thebow paddle. 

"There are men ahead, " the scout whispered back. "We heard them speakjust now. "

Presently the boat began to move again, but so quietly, that it wasonly by looking at the dark masses of the boughs, that stretched outoverhead, that James knew the boat was in motion. Jonathan now crouchedin the bottom of the boat, and placed his hand on Nat's shoulder as asign for him to do the same. The time seemed endless to James, as helay there. It was too dark, under the trees, for him even to see theoutline of Nat's figure. The boat was, he was sure, moving; foroccasionally, as he lay on his back, it grew lighter overhead, as theypassed under openings in the trees. 

Suddenly his heart gave a bound, and he nearly started, for a gutturalvoice spoke, seemingly within a few feet of the canoe. He placed hishand on his rifle, in readiness to sit up and fire, but all was stillagain. It was a passing remark, made by one redskin to another; in acanoe, for the sound was to his right. Another long period passed, andthen Jonathan sat up and took to his paddle again, and James judgedthat the danger was over. 

Raising his head, he could see nothing except the vague light of thesheet of water on his right. The boat was still keeping close under thetrees, on the left shore of the lake, and he lay back again, and dozedoff to sleep. He was awoke by Jonathan touching his foot. 

"You can take your paddle now, captain. "

He sat up at once, and looked round. They were far out now, on a broadsheet of water. There were some faint lights, as of fires burning low, high up to the left behind them; and he knew that they had alreadypassed Ticonderoga, and were making their way along Lake Champlain. They paddled for some hours, and then landed on the right-hand side ofthe lake. 

"We are not likely to be disturbed here, " Nat said, as they lifted thecanoe from the water. "The Indians, coming down from Crown Point, wouldkeep on the other side of the lake. They will all make for Ticonderoga, and will not think of keeping a lookout for anyone, as far down thelakes as this. "

"That was a close shave with that canoe, Nat. It startled me, when Iheard the voice close to us. They must have been within ten yards ofus. "

"About that, " Nat said. "It was lucky they spoke when we were comingalong. I expect they had been watching for some nights, and hadn't muchidea anyone would come, or else they wouldn't have spoken. As it was, it was easy enough to pass them, on such a dark night. Of course, theywere looking outside, and I just kept along as close as I could to thebushes, only just giving a light stroke, now and then, to take heralong. Being inside them, I got a sight of 'em some distance away, butI knew they couldn't see us, sharp as their eyes are. The only chancewas their hearing, and, as there was no noise for them to hear, I feltsafe enough after I had once caught sight of 'em, and saw they werelying out at the edge of the shadow. 

"If they had been close under the bushes, as they ought to have been, we should have been in for a fight; for we mightn't have seen eachother till the boats touched. Let that be a lesson to you, captain. When you are on the lookout for a canoe, at night, lie in among thebushes. It must pass between you and the light, then, and as they can'tsee you, you can either grapple or shoot, just as you like. 

"If they had a seen us, we should have had a hot time, for I could hearby their calls, right along the other side, that they were looking outfor us in earnest, and, if a rifle had been fired, we should have hadhalf a dozen canoes down upon us in no time; and, like enough, shouldhave had to leave the boat, and take to the woods. "

"How far is Crown Point away?"

"Not more than ten miles, " Nat said. "It is thirty miles fromTiconderoga. It lies out on a point, just where Champlain widens out. Ireckon our safest way, tonight, will be to scout along this side, tillwe are well past the point; then to paddle out well across the lake, and come up again, and land to the left of Crown Point. We shall thenbe in the track of boats coming up from the lower end of the lake, andcan paddle boldly on. No one would be keeping any lookout that way. Ourdanger won't begin until we get ashore; in course, then we must actaccording to sarcumstances. "

This manoeuvre was carried out. They started as soon as it became dark, and, after paddling along the eastern shore for nearly three hours, struck out into the wide lake till they approached the opposite shore, and then, heading south again, paddled boldly down towards the spotwhere, at the end of a sweep of land, which seemed to close in thelake, stood the French fort of Crown Point. 

Before starting, the two scouts had stripped to the waist, had laidaside their caps, and, fastening a strip of leather round their heads, had stuck some feathers into it. They then painted their faces andbodies. 

"You needn't be particular about the flourishes, Jonathan. It's onlythe redskin outline as one wants to get. If we run against any othercanoes coming up the lake, or they get sight of us as we near theshore; so as we look something like redskins, that's near enough. Ofcourse, we can both speak Mohawk well enough to pass muster, and thecaptain will lay himself down in the bottom. 

"Captain, you will do well enough for a Canadian when we have oncelanded. There ain't much difference between a hunter one side of thefrontier and the other, but it's as well that you shouldn't be seentill we land. The less questions asked, the better. Our Mohawk's goodenough with any of the other tribes, but it wouldn't pass with aMohawk, if we got into a long talk with him. "

Fortunately, however, these precautions proved unnecessary. No othercanoes were seen on the lake, and they landed, unnoticed, at a spot amile and a half to the west of Crown Point. Before starting from FortWilliam Henry, James had laid aside his uniform, and had dressedhimself in hunting shirt and leggings, similar to those worn by thescouts. He had adopted various little details, in which the Canadianhunters differed from those on the English side of the frontier. Thelatter wore their hunting shirts loose in Indian fashion, while theCanadians generally wore a leathern belt outside theirs, at the waist. 

His cap was made of squirrels' skins, which would pass equally well onboth sides of the frontier. The fire bag, in which tobacco, tinder, andother small matters were carried, was of Indian workmanship, as was thecord of his powder horn and bullet pouch. Altogether, his get-up wassomewhat brighter and more picturesque than that of English scouts, who, as a rule, despised anything approaching to ornament. 

He knew that by disguising himself he would be liable, if captured, tobe shot at once as a spy; but this could not be considered, under thecircumstances, to add to the risk he ran, for, in any case, he wascertain to be killed if detected, and it would have been out of thequestion to attempt to approach the French camp in the uniform of aBritish officer. Could he have spoken Canadian French, the missionwould have been comparatively easy, but he knew only a few words of thelanguage, and would be detected the instant he opened his lips. 

The canoe was hauled up and carefully concealed on land, and then theylay down until daylight; for no information, as to the strength of theenemy, could be gained in the dark. In the morning, the two scouts verycarefully made their toilet. They had brought all necessaries withthem; and soon, in their Indian hunting shirts and fringed leggings, and with carefully-painted faces, they were in a position to defy thekeenest scrutiny. 

When, after a careful survey of each other, they felt that theirdisguise was complete, they moved boldly forward, accompanied by James. After half an hour's walking they emerged from the forest, and thestrong fort of Crown Point lay before them. 

It was constructed of stone, and was capable of withstanding a longsiege, by any force which could be brought against it. Round it was thecamp of the French troops, and James judged, from the number of tents, that there must be some 1500 French soldiers there. A short distanceaway were a large number of roughly-constructed huts, roofed withboughs of trees. 

"Them's the Canadians, " Jonathan said. "The redskins never buildshelters while on the war path. There are a heap of redskins about. "

These, indeed, even at the distance of several hundred yards, could beeasily distinguished from their white allies, by their plumedheaddresses, and by the blankets or long robes of skins which hung fromtheir shoulders. 

"I should put them down at three thousand. "

"It is a big army, " Nat said. "I should think there must be quite asmany Canadians as French. How many redskins there are, there ain't noknowing, but we may be sure that they will have got together as many asthey could. Put 'em down at 4000, and that makes 7000 altogether, enough to eat up Fort William Henry, and to march to Albany--or to NewYork, if they are well led and take fancy to it--that is, if thecolonists don't bestir themselves smartly. 

"Well, so far you have found out what you came to seek, captain. What'sthe next thing?"

"We must discover, if we can, whether they mean to go up the lakes inboats, or to march through the woods, " James replied. "They will have atremendous job getting any guns through the woods, but, if they aregoing by water, of course they can bring them. "

"Very well, " Nat replied. "In that case, captain, my advice is, youstop in the woods, and Jonathan and I will go down past the fort to theshore, and see what provision they are making in that way. You see, theplace swarms with Canadians, and you would be sure to be spoken to. Redskins don't talk much to each other, unless there is some need forwords, and we can go right through the French camp without fear. Theonly danger is of some loping Mohawk coming up to us, and I don'treckon there are many of 'em in the camp, perhaps nary a one. "

Although James did not like his followers to go into danger, withouthis sharing it, he saw that his presence would enormously add to theirrisks, and therefore agreed to their plan. Withdrawing some distanceinto the wood, and choosing a thick growth of underwood, he entered, and lay down in the bushes, while the two scouts walked quietly awaytowards the camp. 

Two hours passed. Several times he heard footsteps in the wood nearhim, and, peering through the leaves, caught sight of parties ofIndians going towards the camp, either late arrivals from Montreal, orbands that had been out scouting or hunting. At the end of the twohours, to his great relief, he saw two figures coming from the otherway through the woods, and at once recognized the scouts. He crawledout and joined them, as they came up. 

"Thank God you are back again! I have been in a fever, all the time youhave been away. "

"I wish I had known the precise place where you were hiding. I shouldhave made a sign to you to keep quiet; but it ain't of no use, now. "

"What's the matter then, Nat?"

"I ain't quite sure as anything is the matter, " the scout replied; "butI am feared of it. As bad luck would have it, just as we were comingback through the camp, we came upon a Mohawk chief. He looked hard atus, and then came up and said:

"'The Owl thought that he knew all his brothers; but here are two whosefaces are strange to him. '

"Of course, I told him that we had been living and hunting, for years, in the English colony, but that, hearing that the Mohawks had joinedthe French, we had come to fight beside our brothers. He asked a fewquestions, and then passed on. But I could see the varmin was notsatisfied, though, in course, he pretended to be glad to welcome usback to the tribe. So we hung about the camp for another half hour, andthen made a sweep before we came out here. I didn't look round, butJonathan stooped, as if the lace of his moccasin had come undone, andmanaged to look back, but, in course, he didn't see anything. "

"Then you have no reason to believe you are followed, Nat?"

"Don't I tell you I have every reason?" Nat said. "If that redskin, theOwl, has got any suspicion--and suspicion you may be sure he's got--hewon't rest till he's cleared the matter up. He is after us, sureenough. "

"Then had we not better make for the canoe at full speed?"

"No, " Nat said. "If they are behind us, they will be watching ourtrail; and if they see we change our pace, they will be after us like apack of wolves; while, as long as we walk slowly and carelessly, theywill let us go. If it were dark, we might make a run for it, but thereain't no chance at present. If we took to the lake, we should have ahundred canoes after us, while the woods are full of Indians, and awhoop of the Owl would bring a hundred of them down onto our track. "

"Why shouldn't the Owl have denounced you at once, if he suspectedyou?" James asked. 

"Because it ain't redskin nature to do anything, till you are sure, "the scout replied. "There is nothing a redskin hates so much as to bewrong, and he would rather wait, for weeks, to make sure of a thing, than run the risk of making a mistake. I don't suppose he takes us forwhites. He expects we belong to some other tribe, come in as spies. "

"Then what are you thinking of doing?" James asked. 

"We will go on a bit further, " Nat said, "in hopes of coming acrosssome stream, where we may hide our trail. If we can't find that, wewill sit down, before long, and eat as if we was careless and in nohurry. "

For a time, they walked on in silence. 

"Do you think they are close to us?" James asked, presently. 

"Not far away, " the scout said carelessly. "So long as they see weain't hurrying, they will go easy. They will know, by this time, thatwe have a white man with us, and, like enough, the Owl will have sentback for one or two more of his warriors. Likely enough, he only tookone with him, at first, seeing we were but two, and that he reckoned ontaking us by surprise; but, when he saw you joined us, he would sendback for perhaps a couple more. "

"Then what I would suggest, " James said, "is, that we should at oncestroll down to our canoe, put it in the water, and paddle out a fewhundred yards, and there let down the lines we have got on board, andbegin to fish. As long as we are quiet there, the redskins may notinterfere with us, and, when it gets dark, we can make off. At theworst, we have a chance for it, and it seems to me anything would bebetter than this sort of wandering about, when we know that, at anytime, we may have them down upon us. "

"Perhaps that is the best plan, " Nat said. "What do you think, Jonathan?"

Jonathan gave an assenting grunt, and they turned their faces towardsthe lake, still walking at the same leisurely pace. Not once did any ofthe three look back. As they neared the water, James found thetemptation very strong to do so, but he restrained it, and saunteredalong as carelessly as ever. 

The canoe was lifted from its hiding place and put in the water. Asthey were about to step in, the bushes parted, and the Owl stood besidethem. 

"Where are my brothers going?" he asked quietly. 

"We are going fishing, " Nat answered. "The noise in the woods will havefrightened game away. "

"There is food in the camp, " the Owl said. "The French give food totheir brothers, the redskins. "

"My white brother wants fish, " Nat said quietly, "and we have told himwe will catch him some. Will the Owl go with us?"

The Indian shook his head, and in a moment the canoe put off from theshore, the Indian standing, watching them, at the edge of the water. 

"That's a badly puzzled redskin, " Nat said, with a low laugh. "Hisbraves have not come up yet, or he would not have let us start. 

"There, that is far enough. We are out of the range of Indian guns. Now, lay in your paddles, and begin to fish. There are several canoesfishing further out, and the redskin will feel safe. He can cut us off, providing we don't go beyond them. "

The Indian was, as Nat had said, puzzled. That something was wrong hewas sure; but, as he was alone, he was unable to oppose theirdeparture. He watched them closely, as they paddled out, in readinessto give a war whoop, which would have brought down the fishing canoesoutside, and given warning to every Indian within sound of his voice;but, when he saw them stop and begin to fish, he hesitated. If he gavethe alarm, he might prove to be mistaken, and he shrank from facing theridicule which a false alarm would bring upon him. Should they reallyprove, as he believed, to be spies, he would, if he gave the alarm, lose the honour and glory of their capture, and their scalps would fallto other hands--a risk not to be thought of. 

He therefore waited, until six of his braves came up. He had alreadyretired among the trees, before he joined them; but the canoe was stillvisible through the branches. 

"The men we tracked have taken to the water. They are fishing. The Owlis sure that they are not of our tribe; but he must wait, till he seeswhat they will do. Let three of my brothers go and get a canoe, andpaddle out beyond them, and there fish. I will remain with the othershere. If they come back again, we will seize them. If they go outfurther, my brothers will call to the redskins in the other canoes, andwill cut them off. The Owl and his friends will soon be with them. "

"There is another canoe coming out, Nat, " James said. "Hadn't we bettermake a run for it, at once?"

"Not a bit of it, captain. Dear me, how difficult it is to teach men tohave patience! I have looked upon you as a promising pupil; but thereyou are, just as hasty and impatient as if you had never spent a day inthe woods. Where should we run to? We must go up the lake, for we couldnot pass the point, for fifty canoes would be put out before we gotthere. We couldn't land this side, because the woods are full ofredskins; and if we led them for ten miles down the lake, and landedt'other side, scores of them would land between here and there, andwould cut us off. 

"No, lad; we have got to wait here till it's getting late. I don't saytill it's dark, but till within an hour or so of nightfall. As long aswe show no signs of going, the chances is as they won't interfere withus. It's a part of redskin natur to be patient, and, as long as theysee as we don't try to make off, they will leave us alone. That's how Ireads it. 

"You agrees with me, Jonathan?

"In course, you do, " he went on, as his companion grunted an assent. "Idon't say as they mayn't ask a question or so; but I don't believe asthey will interfere with us. 

"There is a fish on your line, captain. You don't seem, to me, to beattending to your business. "

James, indeed, found it difficult to fix his attention on his line, when he knew that they were watched by hostile eyes, and that, at anymoment, a conflict might begin. The canoe that had come out last hadshaped its course so as to pass close to those fishing outside them, and a few words had been exchanged with the occupants of each--awarning, no doubt, as to the suspicious character of the fishing partynear them. Beyond this, nothing had happened. The Indians in the canoehad let down their lines, and seemed as intent as the others upon theirfishing. 

The hours passed slowly. Under other circumstances, James would haveenjoyed the sport, for the fish bit freely, and a considerable numberwere soon lying in the canoe. Nat and Jonathan appeared as interestedin their work as if no other boat, but their own, were afloat on thelake. Never once did James see them glance towards the canoes. They didnot talk much, but when they spoke, it was always in the Indian tongue. 

The time seemed endless, before the sun began to sink beyond the lowhills on their left. It was an intense relief, to James, when Nat saidat last:

"The time is just at hand now, cap. The redskins are tired of waiting. At least, they think that they had better not put it off any longer. They know, as well as we do, that it won't do to wait till it getsdark. 

"Do you see that canoe, that came out last, is paddling down towardsus? It looks as if it were drifting, but I have seen them dip a paddlein, several times. The others are pulling up their lines, so as to bein readiness to join in. Get your piece ready to pick up, and aim themoment I give the word. They think they are going to surprise us, butwe must be first with them. Go on with your fishing, and just drop yourline overboard, when you pick up your gun. "

The canoe approached slowly, until it was within thirty yards. Jamesand his companions went on with their fishing, as if they did notnotice the approach of the other canoe, until one of the Indians spoke. 

"Have my Indian brothers caught many fish?"

"A goodish few, " Nat replied. "One or two of them are large ones. 

"See here, " and he stooped as if to select a large fish. 

"Now, " he said suddenly. 

In an instant, the three rifles were levelled to the shoulder, andpointed at the Indians. The latter, taken completely by surprise, andfinding themselves with three barrels levelled at them, as by oneaccord dived overboard. 

"Now your paddles, " Nat exclaimed. 

Three strokes sent the canoe dancing up to that which the Indians hadjust left. It struck it on the broadside, and rolled it instantly over. 

"Those redskin guns are out of the way, anyhow, " Nat said. "Now we havegot to row for it. "

He gave a sharp turn to the canoe as he spoke, and it bounded awaytowards the right, thereby throwing those outside it on their quarter. Simultaneously with the upset of the canoe, half a dozen rifles rangout from the shore, an Indian war whoop rose at the edge of the woods, and, a minute later, half a dozen canoes shot out from shore. 

Chapter 15: Through Many Perils. 

The course Nat was taking was not parallel to that of the boats outsidehim. He was sheering gradually out into the lake, and, although theboat was travelling somewhat faster than its pursuers, James saw thatits course would carry it across their bows at a dangerously closedistance. The Indians were not long in seeing that the canoe wasoutstripping them, and in each of the boats one of the redskins laidaside his paddle, and began to fire. The balls struck the water nearthe canoe, but no one was hit. 

"Let them fire, " Jonathan said. "It ain't every man as can shootstraight from a canoe going at racing pace. The more they fires thebetter. They will only fall further behind. "

After firing two or three shots each, the Indians appeared to be of thesame opinion, and resumed their paddles; but they had lost so muchground that the canoe they were in chase of shot out into the lakefifty yards ahead of the nearest. Some more shots were fired, and thenthe Indians began hastily to throw the fish, with which their canoeswere laden, into the water. After paddling two or three hundred yardsfarther, Nat laid in his paddle. 

"Out with them fish, " he said. "You can leave one or two for supper, but the rest must go overboard. Be quick about it, for those canoesfrom the shore are coming up fast. "

The work was concluded just as the canoes with the Owl and his warriorscame up with the others, which, having now got rid of their fish, againset out, and, in a close body, the ten canoes started in pursuit. 

"Paddle steady, " Nat said; "and whatever you do, be keerful of yourblades. If one was to break now it would mean the loss of our scalps. Don't gain on 'em; as long as the redskins on shore think as theirfriends are going to catch us, they won't care to put out and join inthe chase; but if they thought we was getting away, they might launchcanoes ahead of us and cut us off. The nearer we are to them thebetter, as long as we are keeping ahead. "

For an hour the chase continued. The Indians, although straining everynerve, did not gain a foot upon the fugitives, who, although paddlinghard, had still some reserve of strength. The sun, by this time, wastouching the tops of the hills. 

"Now, cap, " Nat said, "it's time to teach 'em as we can bite a bit. They won't be quite so hot over it, if we give them a lesson now. Doyou turn round and pepper them a bit. 

"Now, old hoss! You and I must row all we know for a bit. "

Turning himself in the canoe, resting his elbow on his knee to steadyhis rifle, James took as careful an aim as the dancing motion of theboat permitted, and fired. A dull sound came back, like an echo, to thecrack of the piece, and a paddle in the leading boat fell into thewater. A yell arose from the Indians, but no answering shout came back. 

The Indians were now paddling even harder than before, in hope ofovertaking the canoe, now that it was impelled by but two rowers. Butthe scouts were rowing their hardest, and proved the justice of theirfame, as the best paddlers on the lakes, by maintaining their distancefrom their pursuers. 

Again and again James fired, several of his bullets taking effect. Itwas now rapidly becoming dusk. 

"That will do, captain. We had best be showing them our heels now, andget as far ahead as we can, by the time it is quite dark. "

James laid by his rifle and again took his paddle, and, as all wererowing at the top of their speed, they gradually increased the distancebetween themselves and their pursuers. Rapidly the gap of waterwidened, and when darkness fell on the lake, the fugitives were morethan half a mile ahead of their pursuers. The night was dark, and alight mist rising from the water further aided them. When night had setin, the pursuing canoes could no longer be seen. 

For another half hour they paddled on, without intermitting theirefforts, then, to James's surprise, Nat turned the head of the canoe tothe western shore. He asked no question, however, having perfect faithin Nat's sagacity. They were nearly in the middle of the lake when theyaltered their course, and it took them half an hour's hard paddling, before the dark mass of trees loomed up in the darkness ahead of him. Ten minutes before, Nat had passed the word that they should paddlequietly and noiselessly. It was certain that the chase would be eagerlywatched from the shore, and that any Indians there might be in the woodwould be closely watching near the water's edge. 

Accordingly, as noiselessly as possible they approached the shore, and, gliding in between the overhanging trees, laid the canoe alongside aclump of bushes. Then, without a word being spoken, they laid in theirpaddles and stretched themselves full length in the canoe. 

James was glad of the rest, for, trained and hard as were his muscles, he was exhausted by the long strain of the row for life. He guessedthat Nat would calculate that the Indian canoes would scatter, whenthey lost sight of them, and that they would seek for them more closelyon the eastern shore. At the same time he was surprised that, afteronce getting out of sight of their pursuers, Nat had not immediatelylanded on the opposite shore, and started on foot through the woods. 

After recovering his breath, James sat up and listened attentively. Once or twice he thought he heard the sound of a dip of a paddle, outon the lake, but he could not be sure of it; while from time to time heheard the croak of a frog, sometimes near, sometimes at a distancealong the shore. He would have thought little of this, had not a slightpressure of Jonathan's hand, against his foot, told him that these wereIndian signals. 

Some hours passed before Nat made a move, then he touched Jonathan, andsat up in the canoe. The signal was passed on to James, the paddleswere noiselessly taken up, and, without a sound that could be detectedby the most closely-listening ear, the canoe stole out again on to thelake. Until some distance from shore they paddled very quietly, thengradually the strokes grew more vigorous, until the canoe was flyingalong at full speed up the lake, her course being laid so as to crossvery gradually towards the eastern side. 

It was not until, as James judged, they must have been several milesfrom the point at which they had started, that they approached theeastern shore. They did so with the same precautions which had beenadopted on the other side, and sat, listening intently, before theygave the last few strokes which took them to the shore. Quietly theystepped out, and the two scouts, lifting the canoe on their shoulders, carried it some fifty yards into the forest, and laid it down amongsome bushes. Then they proceeded on their way, Nat walking first, Jamesfollowing him so close that he was able to touch him, for, in the thickdarkness under the trees, he could not perceive even the outlines ofhis figure. Jonathan followed close behind. Their progress was slow, for even the trained woodsmen could, with difficulty, make their waythrough the trees, and Nat's only index, as to the direction to betaken, lay in the feel of the bark of the trunks. 

After an hour's progress, he whispered:

"We will stop here till daylight. We can't do any good at the work. Wehaven't made half a mile since we started. "

It was a positive relief, to James, to hear the scout's voice, for nota single word had been spoken since they lost sight of their pursuersin the darkness. The fact that he had ventured now to speak showed thathe believed that they were comparatively safe. 

"May I speak, Nat?" he asked, after they had seated themselves on theground. 

"Ay, you may speak, captain, but don't you raise your voice above awhisper. There is no saying what redskin ears may be near us. I guessthese forests are pretty well alive with them. You may bet there isn'ta redskin, or one of the irregular Canadian bands, but is out arter ustonight. The war whoop and the rifles will have put them all on thelookout. 

"They will have seen that we were pretty well holding our own, and willguess that, when night came on, we should give the canoes the slip. Iguess they will have placed a lot of canoes and flatboats across thelake, opposite Crown Point, for they will know that we should eitherhead back, or take to the woods. I guess most of the redskins nearCrown Point will have crossed over at this point, as, in course, wewere more likely to land on this side. I had a mighty good mind to landwhar we was over there, but there are sure to be such a heap ofIndians, making their way up that side from Montreal, that I judge thiswill be the best; but we shall have all we can do to get free of them. "

"Why didn't you land at once, Nat, after we lost sight of them, insteadof crossing over?"

"Because that's where they will reckon we shall land, captain. That'swhere they will look for our tracks the first thing in the morning, andthey will know that we can't travel far such a dark night as this, andthey will search every inch of the shore for three or four miles belowwhere they lost sight of us, to find where we landed. They would knowwell enough we couldn't get ashore, without leaving tracks as theywould make out, and they would reckon to pick up our trail fast enough, in the wood, and to overtake us before we had gone many miles. 

"Now, you see, we have doubled on them. The varmint in the woods willsearch the edge of the lake in the morning, but it's a good longstretch to go over, and, if we have luck, they mayn't strike on ourlanding place for some hours after daylight. In course, they may hit onit earlier; still, it gives us a chance, anyhow. Another thing is, wehave twenty miles less to travel through the woods than if we had tostart up there, and that makes all the difference when you've gotredskins at your heels. If we don't have the bad luck to come acrosssome of the varmint in the woods, I expect we shall carry our scalpsback to Fort William Henry. 

"Now you had best sleep till daybreak. We sha'n't get another chancetill we get into the fort again. "

With the first dawn of morning, they were on their way. Strikingstraight back into the woods, they walked fast, but with the greatestcare and caution, occasionally making bends and detours, to prevent theredskins following their traces at a run, which they would have beenable to do, had they walked in a straight line. Whenever the ground wassoft, they walked without trying to conceal their tracks, for Nat knewthat, however carefully they progressed, the Indians would be able tomake out their trail here. When, however, they came to rocky and brokenground, they walked with the greatest caution, avoiding bruising any ofthe plants growing between the rocks. After walking ten miles in thisdirection, they turned to the south. 

"We ought to be pretty safe, now, " Nat said. "They may be three or fourhours before they hit on our landing place, and find the canoe. I don'tsay as they won't be able to follow our trail--there ain't no sayingwhat redskin eyes can do--but it 'ull take them a long time, anyway. There ain't much risk of running against any of them in the forest, now. I guess that most of them followed the canoe down the lake lastnight. 

"Anyway, we are well out from Lake Champlain now. When we have goneanother fifteen mile, we sha'n't be far from the upper arm. There's acanoe been lying hidden there for the last two years, unless sometramping redskin has found it, which ain't likely. "

Twenty miles further walking brought them to the shore of the lake. Following this for another hour, they came upon the spot, where alittle stream ran into the lake. 

"Here we are, " Nat said. "Fifty yards up here we shall find the canoe. "

They followed the stream up for a little distance, and then Nat, leaving its edge, made for a clump of bushes a few yards away. Pushingthe thick foliage aside, he made his way into the centre of the clump. 

"Here it is, " he said, "just as I left it. "

The canoe was lifted out and carried down to the lake, and, takingtheir seats, they paddled up Lake Champlain, keeping close under theshore. 

"We have had good luck, captain, " Nat said. "I hardly thought we shouldhar got out without a scrimmage. I expect as the best part of theredskins didn't trouble themselves very much about it. They expect toget such a lot of scalps and plunder, when they take the fort, that thechance of three extra wasn't enough inducement for 'em to take muchtrouble over it. The redskins in the canoes, who chased us, would behot enough over it, for you picked out two if not more of them; butthose who started from the fort wouldn't have any particular reason totrouble much, especially as they think it likely that those who werechasing us would get the scalps. When a redskin's blood's up thereain't no trouble too great for him, and he will follow for weeks to gethis revenge; but, take 'em all in all, they are lazy varmint, and aslong as there is plenty of deer's meat on hand, they will eat and sleepaway their time for weeks. "

By night, they reached the upper end of Lake Champlain, the canoe wascarefully hidden away again, and they struck through the woods in thedirection of Fort William Henry. They were now safe from pursuit, and, after walking two or three miles, halted for the night, made a fire, and cooked some of the dried meat. When they had finished their meal, Nat said:

"Now we will move away a bit, and then stretch ourselves out. "

"Why shouldn't we lie down here, Nat?"

"Because it would be a foolish thing to do, captain. There ain't nosaying what redskins may be wandering in the woods in time of war. Athousand nights might pass without one of 'em happening to come uponthat fire, but if they did, and we were lying beside it, all thetrouble we have taken to slip through their hands would be chuckedclean away. No, you cannot be too careful in the woods. "

They started early the next morning, and, before noon, arrived at FortWilliam Henry, where James at once reported, to Colonel Monro, what hehad learned of the strength of the French force gathering at CrownPoint. 

"Thank you, Captain Walsham, " the commandant said. "I am greatlyindebted to you, for having brought us certain news of what is coming. I will write off at once, and ask for reinforcements. This is a seriousexpedition, and the colonies will have to make a great effort, and aspeedy one, if they are going to save the fort, for, from what we hearof Montcalm, he is not likely to let the grass grow under his feet. Ishall report the services you have rendered. "

As soon as Colonel Monro received the report James had brought him, hesent to General Webb, who, with two thousand six hundred men, chieflyprovincials, was at Fort Edward, fourteen miles away. On the 25th ofJuly that general visited Fort William Henry, and, after remainingthere four days, returned to Fort Edward, whence he wrote to thegovernor of New York, telling him the French were coming, and urginghim to send forward the militia at once, saying that he was determinedto march himself, with all his troops, to the fort. Instead of doingso, three days later he sent up a detachment of two hundred regularsunder Lieutenant Colonel Young, and eight hundred Massachusetts menunder Colonel Frye. This raised the force at Fort William Henry to twothousand two hundred men, and reduced that of Webb to sixteen hundred. 

Had Webb been a brave and determined man, he would have left a fewhundred men, only, to hold Fort Edward, and marched with the rest toassist Monro, when, on the morning of the 3d of August, he received aletter from him, saying that the French were in sight on the lake. But, as he was neither brave nor determined, he remained at Fort Edward, sending off message after message to New York, for help which could notpossibly arrive in time. 

Already, the garrison of Fort William Henry had suffered one reverse. Three hundred provincials, chiefly New Jersey men, under ColonelParker, had been sent out to reconnoitre the French outposts. Thescouts, under James Walsham, were of the party. They were to proceed inboats down the lake. 

"I don't like this business, no way, captain, " Nat said, as the companytook their place in the boats. "This ain't neither one thing or theother. If Monro wants to find out about the enemy, Jonathan and I kindo it. If he wants to fight the enemy, this lot ain't enough; besides, these New Jersey men know no more about the forest than so manychildren. You mark my words, this is going to be a bad business. Why, they can see all these boats halfway down the lake, and, with all theseredskins about, they will ambush us as soon as we try to land. 

"Look here, captain; you know that I ain't no coward. I don't think noone can say that of me. I am ready to fight when there is a chance offighting, but I don't see no good in getting myself killed off, whenthere ain't no good in it. So what I says is this: don't you be in ahurry, captain, with these boats of ours. "

"But I must obey orders, Nat, " James said, smiling. 

"Yes, you must obey orders, captain, no doubt. But there's two ways ofobeying orders. The one is to rush in front, and to do a little morethan you are told. The other is to take things quiet, and just do whatyou are told, and no more. Now, my advice is, on this here expeditionyou go on the last plan. If you are ordered to land first, why landfirst it must be. If you don't get orders to land first, just let themas is in a hurry land afore you. I ain't been teaching all these ladsto know something about the woods, for the last six months, jest to seethem killed off like flies, because a blundering wrong-headed colonelsends them out with two hundred and fifty ploughmen, for the redskinsto see and attack jest when they fancies. "

"Very well, Nat, I will take your advice, and, for once, we won't putourselves in the front, unless we are ordered. "

Satisfied with this, Nat passed quietly round among the men, as theywere taking their places in the boats, and told them that there was nooccasion for them to row as if they were racing. 

"I shall be in the captain's boat, " he said. "You keep close to us, anddon't you try to push on ahead. When we are once fairly in the woods, then we will do the scouting for the rest, but there ain't no hurry forus to begin that, till we are on shore. "

"Look at us, " Nat grumbled in James's ear, as the boats started downthe lake. "There we are, rowing along the middle, instead of sneakingalong close to the shore. Does Parker think that the redskins are asblind as he is, and that, 'cause it's night, a lot of big boats likethese can't be seen out in the middle of the lake? I tell you, captain, if we ain't ambushed as soon as we land, I will grant I know nothing ofredskin ways. "

James had, in fact, before starting, suggested to Colonel Parker thatit would be well to keep under the shelter of the bushes; but theofficer had replied stiffly:

"When I want your advice, Captain Walsham, I will ask for it. "

After which rebuff, James was more willing than he had hitherto been toact in accordance with the advice of the scout. Accordingly, as theyrowed down the lake, the boats with the Royal Scouts, although keepingup with the others, maintained their position in the rear of thecolumn. 

Towards daybreak, the boats' heads were turned to shore, and, when theyneared it, Colonel Parker gave the order for the men to lay in theiroars, while the three boats, which happened to be in advance, were toldto advance at once and land. The boats passed through the thick curtainof trees, which hung down over the water's edge. A minute passed, andthen three others were ordered to follow them. 

"Did you hear nothing?" Nat whispered to James. 

"No, I didn't hear anything, Nat. Did you?"

"Well, I think I did hear something, captain. It seems to me as I hearda sort of scuffle. "

"But they never could surprise some thirty or forty men, without thealarm being given?"

"It depended what sort of men they were, " Nat said scornfully. "Theywouldn't surprise men that knew their business; but those chaps wouldjust jump out of their boats, as if they was landed on a quay at NewYork, and would scatter about among the bushes. Why, Lord bless you, the Indians might ambush and tomahawk the lot, before they had time tothink of opening their lips to give a shout. "

The second three boats had now disappeared among the trees, and ColonelParker gave the word for the rest to advance in a body. 

"Look to your firelocks, lads, " James said. "Whatever happens, keepperfectly cool. You at the oars, especially, sit still and be ready toobey orders. "

The boats were within fifty yards of the trees when, from beneath thedrooping boughs, a volley of musketry was poured out, and, a momentlater, a swarm of canoes darted out from beneath the branches, and theterrible Indian war whoop rang in the air. 

Appalled by the suddenness of the attack, by the deadly fire, and theterrible yells, the greater portion of the men in the boats were seizedwith the wildest panic. Many of them jumped into the water. Othersthrew themselves down in the bottom of the boats. Some tried to row, but were impeded by their comrades. 

"Steady, men, steady!" James shouted, at the top of his voice. "Get theboats' heads round, and keep together. We can beat off these canoes, easy enough, if you do but keep your heads. "

His orders were obeyed promptly and coolly by the men of his company. The boats were turned with their heads to the lake, as the canoes camedashing up, and the men who were not employed in rowing fired sosteadily and truly that the redskins in several of the leading canoesfell, upsetting their boats. 

"Don't hurry, " James shouted. "There is no occasion for haste. They cango faster than we can. All we have got to do is to beat them off. Layin all the oars, except the two bow oars, in each boat. All the rest ofthe men stand to their arms, and let the boats follow each other infile, the bow of one close to the stern of that ahead. "

The check, which the volley had given to the canoes, gave time to themen in several of the boats, close to those of the scouts, to turn. They were rowing past James's slowly-moving boats, when he shouted tothem:

"Steady, men, your only chance of escape is to show a front to them, aswe are doing. They can overtake you easily, and will row you down oneafter the other. Fall in ahead of our line, and do as we are doing. Youneed not be afraid. We could beat them off, if they were ten times asmany. "

Reassured by the calmness with which James issued his orders, the boatstook up the positions assigned to them. James, who was in the last boatin the line, shuddered at the din going on behind him. The yells of theIndians, the screams and cries of the provincials, mingled with thesharp crack of rifles or the duller sound of the musket. The work ofdestruction was soon over. Save his own company and some fifty of theprovincials in the boats ahead, the whole of Colonel Parker's force hadbeen killed, or were prisoners in the hands of the Indians, who, havingfinished their work, set off in pursuit of the boats which had escapedthem. 

James at once changed the order. The front boat was halted, and theothers formed in a line beside it, presenting the broad side to theapproaching fleet of canoes. When the latter came within a hundredyards, a stream of fire opened from the boats, the men aiming with thegreatest coolness. 

The canoes were checked at once. A score of the paddlers had sunk, killed or wounded, into the bottom, and several of the frail barks wereupset. As fast as the men could load, they continued their fire, and, in two minutes from the first shot, the canoes were turned, and paddledat full speed towards the shore, pursued by a hearty cheer from theEnglish. The oars were then manned again, and the remains of Parker'sflotilla rowed up the lake to Fort William Henry. 

Several of the prisoners taken by the Indians were cooked and eaten bythem. A few days afterwards a party of Indians, following the routefrom the head of Lake Champlain, made a sudden attack on the housesround Fort Edward, and killed thirty-two men. 

It was an imposing spectacle, as the French expedition made its waydown Lake George. General Levis had marched by the side of the lakewith twenty-five hundred men, Canadians, regulars, and redskins; whilethe main body proceeded, the troops in two hundred and fifty largeboats, the redskins in many hundreds of their canoes. 

The boats moved in military order. There were six regiments of Frenchline: La Reine and Languedoc, La Sarre and Guienne, Bearn andRoussillon. The cannons were carried on platforms formed across twoboats. Slowly and regularly the procession of boats made its way downthe lake, till they saw the signal fires of Levis, who, with hiscommand, was encamped near the water at a distance of two miles fromthe fort. Even then, the English were not aware that near eightthousand enemies were gathered close to them. Monro was a bravesoldier, but wholly unfitted for the position he held, knowing nothingof irregular warfare, and despising all but trained soldiers. 

At daybreak, all was bustle at Fort Henry. Parties of men went out todrive in the cattle, others to destroy buildings which would interferewith the fire from the fort. The English position was now moredefensible than it had been when it was attacked in the spring. Theforest had been cleared for a considerable distance round, and thebuildings which had served as a screen to the enemy had, for the mostpart, been removed. The fort itself lay close down by the edge of thewater. One side and the rear were protected by the marsh, so that itcould only be attacked from one side. Beyond the marsh lay the roughground where Johnson had encamped two years before; while, on a flathill behind this was an entrenched camp, beyond which, again, wasanother marsh. 

As soon as the sun rose, the column of Levis moved through the foresttowards the fort, followed by Montcalm with the main body, while theartillery boats put out from behind the point which had hid them fromthe sight of the English, and, surrounded by hundreds of Indian canoes, moved slowly forward, opening fire as they went. Soon the sound offiring broke out near the edge of the forest, all round the fort, asthe Indians, with Levis, opened fire upon the soldiers who wereendeavouring to drive in the cattle. 

Hitherto James Walsham, with Edwards and his two scouts, was standingquietly, watching the approaching fleet of boats and canoes; Natexpressing, in no measured terms, his utter disgust at the confusionwhich reigned in and around the fort. 

"It looks more like a frontier settlement suddenly surprised, " he said, "than a place filled with soldiers who have been, for weeks, expectingan attack. Nothing done, nothing ready. The cattle all over the place. The tents on that open ground there still standing. Stores all about inthe open. Of all the pig-headed, obstinate, ignorant old gentlemen Iever see, the colonel beats them all. One might as well have an oldwoman in command. Indeed, I know scores of old women, on the frontier, who would have been a deal better here than him. "

But if Monro was obstinate and prejudiced, he was brave, cool, anddetermined, and, now that the danger had come, he felt secure of hisground, and took the proper measures for defence, moving calmly about, and abating the disposition to panic by the calm manner in which hegave his orders. Nat had scarcely finished his grumbling, when thecolonel approached. 

"Captain Walsham, " he said, "you will take your company at once, andcover the parties driving in the cattle. You will fall back with them, and, when you see all in safety, retire into the intrenched camp. "

The company were already under arms, waiting for orders and, at thedouble, James led them up the sloping ground towards the forest, whencethe war whoops of the Indians, and the sharp cracks of the rifles, werenow ringing out on all sides. James made for the spot where a score ofsoldiers were driving a number of cattle before them, some hurrying thebeasts on across the rough ground, others firing at the Indians, who, as their numbers increased, were boldly showing themselves behind thetrees, and advancing in pursuit. 

As soon as they neared the spot, James scattered his men in skirmishingorder. Each placed himself behind one of the blackened stumps of theroughly-cleared forest, and opened fire upon the Indians. Several ofthese fell, and the rest bounded back to the forest, whence they openeda heavy fire. 

Now the company showed the advantage of the training they had gonethrough, fighting with the greatest steadiness and coolness, andkeeping well in shelter, until, when the soldiers and cattle had gotwell on their way towards the fort, James gave the order to fall back, and the band, crawling among the stumps, and pausing to fire at everyopportunity, made their way back without having lost a man, althoughseveral had received slight wounds. 

Chapter 16: The Massacre At Fort William Henry. 

When the skirmishing round Fort Henry was over, La Corne, with a bodyof Indians, occupied the road that led to Fort Edward; and Levisencamped close by, to support him, and check any sortie the Englishmight make from their intrenched camp. Montcalm reconnoitred theposition. He had, at first, intended to attack and carry the intrenchedcamp, but he found that it was too strong to be taken by a rush. Hetherefore determined to attack the fort, itself, by regular approachesfrom the western side, while the force of Levis would intercept anysuccour which might come from Fort Edward, and cut off the retreat ofthe garrison in that direction. He gave orders that the cannon were tobe disembarked at a small cove, about half a mile from the fort, andnear this he placed his main camp. He now sent one of his aides-de-campwith a letter to Monro. 

"I owe it to humanity, " he said, "to summon you to surrender. Atpresent I can restrain the savages, and make them observe the terms ofa capitulation, but I might not have the power to do so under othercircumstances, and an obstinate defence on your part could only retardthe capture of the place a few days, and endanger the unfortunategarrison, which cannot be relieved, in consequence of the dispositionsI have made. I demand a decisive answer within an hour. "

Monro replied simply that he and his soldiers would defend themselvestill the last. 

The trenches were opened on the night of the 4th. The work wasextremely difficult, the ground being covered with hard stumps of treesand fallen trunks. All night long 800 men toiled at the work, while theguns of the fort kept up a constant fire of round shot and grape; butby daybreak the first parallel was made. The battery on the left wasnearly finished, and one on the right begun. The men were now workingunder shelter, and the guns of the fort could do them little harm. 

While the French soldiers worked, the Indians crept up through thefallen trees, close to the fort, and fired at any of the garrison whomight, for a moment, expose themselves. Sharpshooters in the fortreplied to their fire, and all day the fort was fringed with lightpuffs of smoke, whilst the cannon thundered unceasingly. The nextmorning, the French battery on the left opened with eight heavy cannonand a mortar, and on the following morning the battery on the rightjoined in with eleven other pieces. 

The fort only mounted, in all, seventeen cannon, for the most partsmall, and, as some of them were upon the other faces, the Englishfire, although kept up with spirit, could reply but weakly to that ofthe French. The fort was composed of embankments of gravel, surmountedby a rampart of heavy logs, laid in tiers, crossing each other, theinterstices filled with earth; and this could ill support the heavycannonade to which it was exposed. The roar of the distant artillerycontinuing day after day was plainly audible at Fort Edward; butalthough Monro had, at the commencement of the attack, sent off severalmessengers asking for reinforcements, Webb did not move. 

On the third day of the siege he had received 2000 men from New York, and, by stripping all the forts below, he could have advanced with 4500men, but some deserters from the French told him that Montcalm had12, 000 men, and Webb considered the task of advancing, through theintervening forests and defiles between him and Fort Henry, far toodangerous an operation to be attempted. Undoubtedly it would have beena dangerous one, for the Indians pervaded the woods as far as FortEdward. No messenger could have got through to inform Monro of hiscoming, and Montcalm could therefore have attacked him, on the march, with the greater part of his force. Still, a brave and determinedgeneral would have made the attempt. Webb did not do so, but left Monroto his fate. 

He even added to its certainty by sending off a letter to him, tellinghim that he could do nothing to assist him, and advising him tosurrender at once. The messenger was killed by the Indians in theforest, and the note taken to Montcalm, who, learning that Webb did notintend to advance, was able to devote his whole attention to the fort. Montcalm kept the letter for several days, till the English rampart washalf battered down, and then sent it in by an officer to Monro, hopingthat it would induce the latter to surrender. The old soldier, however, remained firm in his determination to hold out, even though hisposition was now absolutely hopeless. The trenches had been pushedforward until within 250 yards of the fort, and the Indians crept upalmost to the wall on this side. 

Two sorties were made--one from the fort, the other from the intrenchedcamp; but both were repulsed with loss. More than 300 of the defendershad been killed and wounded. Smallpox was raging, and the casemateswere crowded with sick. All their large cannon had been burst ordisabled, and only seven small pieces were fit for service. The Frenchbattery in the foremost trench was almost completed, and, when this wasdone, the whole of Montcalm's thirty-one cannon and fifteen mortarswould open fire, and, as a breach had already been effected in thewall, further resistance would have been madness. 

On the night of the 8th, it was known in the fort that a council of warwould be held in the morning, and that, undoubtedly, the fort wouldsurrender. 

James, with his company, had, after escorting the cattle to the fort, crossed the marsh to the intrenched camp, as the fort was alreadycrowded with troops. The company therefore avoided the horrors of thesiege. When the report circulated that a surrender would probably bemade the next morning, Nat went to James. 

"What are you going to do, captain?"

"Do, Nat? Why, I have nothing to do. If Monro and his council decide tosurrender, there is an end of it. You don't propose that our company isto fight Montcalm's army alone, do you?"

"No, I don't, " Nat said, testily; "there has been a deal too muchfighting already. I understand holding out till the last, when there'sa hope of somebody coming to relieve you; but what's the use offighting, and getting a lot of your men killed, and raising the bloodof those redskin devils to boiling point? If the colonel had given upthe place at once, we should have saved a loss of 300 men, and Montcalmwould have been glad enough to let us march off to Fort Edward. "

"But probably he will agree to let us do that now, " James said. 

"He may agree, " Nat said, contemptuously; "but how about the redskins?Do you think that, after losing a lot of their braves, they are goingto see us march quietly away, and go home without a scalp? I tell you, captain, I know redskin nature, and, as sure as the sun rises tomorrow, there will be a massacre; and I, for one, ain't going to lay down myrifle, and let the first redskin, as takes a fancy to my scalp, tomahawk me. "

"Well, but what do you propose, Nat?"

"Well, captain, I have heard you say yours is an independent command, and that you can act with the company wherever you like. While you arehere, I know you are under the orders of the colonel; but if you hadchosen to march away on any expedition of your own, you could have doneit. "

"That is so, Nat; but now the siege is once begun, I don't know that Ishould be justified in marching away, even if I could. "

"But they are going to surrender, I tell you, " Nat insisted. "I don'tsee as how it can be your duty to hand over your company to the French, if you can get them clear away, so as to fight for the king again. "

"What do you say, Edwards?" James asked his lieutenant. 

"I don't see why we shouldn't march away, if we could, " Edwards said. "Now that the game is quite lost here, I don't think anyone could blameyou for saving the company, if possible, and I agree with Nat thatMontcalm will find it difficult, if not impossible, to keep his Indiansin hand. The French have never troubled much on that score. "

"Well, Nat, what is your plan?" James asked, after a pause. 

"The plan is simple enough, " Nat said. "There ain't no plan at all. Allwe have got to do is to march quietly down to the lake, to take some ofthe canoes that are hauled up at the mouth of the swamp, and to paddlequietly off, keeping under the trees on the right-hand side. Thereain't many redskins in the woods that way, and the night is as dark aspitch. We can land eight or ten miles down the lake, and then marchaway to the right, so as to get clean round the redskins altogether. "

"Very well, Nat, I will do it, " James said. "It's a chance, but I thinkit's a better chance than staying here, and if I should get into a rowabout it, I can't help it. I am doing it for the best. "

The corps were quietly mustered, and marched out through the gate ofthe intrenchments, on the side of the lake. No questions were asked, for the corps had several times gone out on its own account, and drivenback the Indians and French pickets. The men had, from their firstarrival at the fort, laid aside their heavy boots, and taken tomoccasins as being better fitted for silent movement in the forest. Therefore not a sound was heard as, under Nat's guidance, they madetheir way down the slope into the swamp. 

Here they were halted, for the moment, and told to move with thegreatest care and silence, and to avoid snapping a bough or twig. This, however, was the less important, as the cannon on both sides were stillfiring, and a constant rattle of musketry was going on round the fort. 

Presently, they reached the point where the canoes were hauled up, andwere told off, three to a canoe. 

"Follow my canoe in single file, " James said. "Not a word is to bespoken, and remember that a single splash of a paddle will bring theredskins down upon us. Likely enough there may be canoes out upon thelake--there are sure to be Indians in the wood. "

"I don't think there's much fear, captain, " Nat whispered. "There's notiring a redskin when he's out on the scout on his own account, butwhen he's acting with the whites he's just as lazy as a hog, and, asthey must be sure the fort can't hold out many hours longer, they willbe too busy feasting, and counting the scalps they mean to take, tothink much about scouting tonight. "

"We shall go very slowly. Let every man stop paddling the instant thecanoe ahead of him stops, " were James's last instructions, as hestepped into the stern of a canoe, while Nat and Jonathan took thepaddles. Edwards was to take his place in the last canoe in the line. 

Without the slightest sound, the canoes paddled out into the lake, andthen made for the east shore. They were soon close to the trees, and, slowly and noiselessly, they kept their way just outside the screenafforded by the boughs drooping down, almost into the water. Only nowand then the slightest splash was to be heard along the line, and thismight well have been taken for the spring of a tiny fish feeding. 

Several times, when he thought he heard a slight sound in the forest onhis right, Nat ceased paddling, and lay for some minutes motionless, the canoes behind doing the same. So dark was it, that they couldscarce see the trees close beside them, while the bright flashes fromthe guns from fort and batteries only seemed to make the darkness moreintense. It was upwards of an hour before James felt, from the greaterspeed with which the canoe was travelling, that Nat believed that hehad got beyond the spot where any Indians were likely to be watching inthe forest. 

Faster and faster the boat glided along, but the scouts were still farfrom rowing their hardest. For, although the whole of the men wereaccustomed to the use of the paddle, the other boats would be unable tokeep up with that driven by the practised arms of the leaders of thefile. After paddling for another hour and a half, the scout stopped. 

"We are far enough away now, " Nat said. "There ain't no chance in theworld of any redskins being in the woods, so far out as this. The hopeof scalps will have taken them all down close to the fort. We can landsafely, now. "

The word was passed down the line of canoes, the boats glided throughthe screen of foliage, and the men landed. 

"Better pull the canoes ashore, captain. If we left them in the water, one might break adrift and float out beyond the trees. Some redskin orother would make it out, and we should have a troop of them on ourtrail, before an hour had passed. "

"There's no marching through the forest now, Nat, " James said. "I can'tsee my own hand close to my face. "

"That's so, captain, and we'd best halt till daylight. I could make myway along, easy enough, but some of these fellows would be pitchingover stumps, or catching their feet in a creeper, and, like enough, letting off their pieces as they went down. We may just as well staywhere we are. They ain't likely to miss us, even in the camp, andsartin the redskins can't have known we have gone. So there's no chancewhatever of pursuit, and there ain't nothing to be gained by makinghaste. "

James gave the order. The men felt about, till each found a space ofground, sufficiently large to lie down upon, and soon all were asleepexcept the two scouts, who said, at once, that they would watch byturns till daylight. 

As soon as it was sufficiently light to see in the forest, the bandwere again in motion. They made due east, until they crossed the trailleading from the head of Lake Champlain to Fort Edward; kept on foranother hour, and then, turning to the south, made in the direction ofAlbany, for it would have been dangerous to approach Fort Edward, roundwhich the Indians were sure to be scattered thickly. 

For the first two hours after starting, the distant roar of the gunshad gone on unceasingly, then it suddenly stopped. 

"They have hoisted the white flag, " Edwards said. "It is all over. Thank God, we are well out of it! I don't mind fighting, Walsham, butto be massacred by those Indians is a hideous idea. "

"I am glad we are out of it too, " James agreed; "but I cannot thinkthat Montcalm, with so large a force of French regulars at his command, will allow those fiendish Indians to massacre the prisoners. "

"I hope not, " Edwards said. "It will be a disgrace indeed to him andhis officers if he does; but you know what the Indians are, better thanI do, and you have heard Nat's opinion. You see, if Montcalm were touse force against the Indians, the whole of them would go off, and thenthere would be an end to any hope of the French beating the colonistsin the long run. Montcalm daren't break with them. It's a horribleposition for an officer and a gentleman to be placed in. Montcalm didmanage to prevent the redskins from massacring the garrison of Oswego, but it was as much as he could do, and it will be ten times asdifficult, now that their blood is up with this week of hard fighting, and the loss of many of their warriors. Anyhow, I am glad I am out ofit, even if the bigwigs consider we had no right to leave the fort, andbreak us for it. I would rather lose my commission than run the risk ofbeing massacred in cold blood. "

James agreed with him. 

For two days, they continued their march through the forest, usingevery precaution against surprise. They saw, however, nothing of theenemy, and emerged from the forest, on the evening of the second day'smarch, at a distance of a few miles from Albany. 

They had not reached that town many hours, when they learned that Nat'ssombre predictions had been fulfilled. The council of war in the fortagreed that further resistance was impossible, and Lieutenant ColonelYoung went out, with a white flag, to arrange the terms of surrenderwith Montcalm. It was agreed that the English troops should march out, with the honours of war, and be escorted to Fort Edward by a detachmentof French troops; that they should not serve for eighteen months; andthat all French prisoners captured in America, since the war began, should be given up within three months. The stores, ammunition, andartillery were to be handed over to the French, except one field piece, which the garrison were to be allowed to retain, in recognition oftheir brave defence. 

Before signing the capitulation, Montcalm summoned the Indian chiefsbefore him, and asked them to consent to the conditions, and torestrain their young braves from any disorder. They gave theirapproval, and promised to maintain order. 

The garrison then evacuated the fort, and marched to join theircomrades in the intrenched camp. No sooner had they moved out, than acrowd of Indians rushed into the fort through the breach andembrasures, and butchered all the wounded who had been left behind tobe cared for by the French. Having committed this atrocity the Indians, and many of the Canadians, rushed up to the intrenched camp, where theEnglish were now collected. The French guards, who had been stationedthere, did nothing to keep them out; and they wandered about, threatening and insulting the terrified women, telling the men thateveryone should be massacred, and plundering the baggage. 

Montcalm did his best, by entreaty, to restrain the Indians, but hetook no steps whatever to give effectual protection to the prisoners, and that he did not do so will remain an ineffaceable blot upon hisfame. Seeing the disposition of the redskins, he should have ordered upall the regular French troops, and marched the English garrison undertheir protection to Fort Edward, in accordance with the terms ofsurrender; and he should have allowed the English troops to again filltheir pouches with cartridge, by which means they would have been ableto fight in their own defence. 

The next morning, the English marched at daybreak. Seventeen woundedmen were left behind in the huts, having been, in accordance with theagreement, handed over to the charge of a French surgeon; but as he wasnot there in the morning, the regimental surgeon, Miles Whitworth, remained with them attending to their wants. The French surgeon hadcaused special sentinels to be placed for their protection, but thesewere now removed, when they were needed most. 

At five in the morning the Indians entered the huts, dragged out theinmates, tomahawked and scalped them before the eyes of Whitworth, andin the presence of La Corne and other Canadian officers, as well as ofa French guard stationed within forty feet of the spot--none of whom, as Whitworth declared on oath, did anything to protect the wounded men. 

The Indians, in the meantime, had begun to plunder the baggage of thecolumn. Monro complained, to the officers of the French escort, thatthe terms of the capitulation were broken; but the only answer was thathe had better give up all the baggage to the Indians, to appease them. But it had no effect in restraining the passion of the Indians. Theyrushed upon the column, snatching caps, coats, and weapons from men andofficers, tomahawking all who resisted, and, seizing upon shriekingwomen and children, carried them away or murdered them on the spot. Arush was made upon the New Hampshire men, at the rear of the column, and eighty of them were killed or carried away. 

The Canadian officers did nothing at all to try to assuage the fury ofthe Indians, and the officers of the Canadian detachment, which formedthe advance guard of the French escort, refused any protection to themen, telling them they had better take to the woods and shift forthemselves. Montcalm, and the principal French officers, did everythingshort of the only effectual step, namely, the ordering up of the Frenchregular troops to save the English. They ran about among the yellingIndians, imploring them to desist, but in vain. 

Some seven or eight hundred of the English were seized and carried offby the savages, while some seventy or eighty were massacred on thespot. The column attempted no resistance. None had ammunition, and, ofthe colonial troops, very few were armed with bayonets. Had anyresistance been offered, there can be no doubt all would have beenmassacred by the Indians. 

Many of the fugitives ran back to the fort, and took refuge there, andMontcalm recovered from the Indians more than four hundred of thosethey had carried off. These were all sent under a strong guard to FortEdward. The greater part of the survivors of the column dispersed intothe woods, and made their way in scattered parties to Fort Edward. Herecannon had been fired at intervals, to serve as a guide to thefugitives, but many, no doubt, perished in the woods. On the morningafter the massacre the Indians left in a body for Montreal, taking withthem two hundred prisoners, to be tortured and murdered on their returnto their villages. 

Few events cast a deeper disgrace on the arms of France than thismassacre, committed in defiance of their pledged honour for the safetyof their prisoners, and in sight of four thousand French troops, not aman of whom was set in motion to prevent it. These facts are not takenonly from English sources, but from the letters of French officers, andfrom the journal of the Jesuit Roubaud, who was in charge of theChristianized Indians, who, according to his own account, were no lessferocious and cruel than the unconverted tribes. The number of thosewho perished in the massacre is uncertain. Captain Jonathan Carver, acolonial officer, puts the killed and captured at 1500. A Frenchwriter, whose work was published at Montreal, says that they were allkilled, except seven hundred who were captured; but this is, of course, a gross exaggeration. General Levis and Roubaud, who were certain tohave made the best of the matter, acknowledged that they saw some fiftycorpses scattered on the ground, but this does not include thosemurdered in the fort and camp. 

Probably the total number killed was about two hundred, and besidesthese must be counted the two hundred prisoners carried off to betortured by the Indians. The greater portion of these were purchasedfrom the Indians, in exchange for rum, by Vaudreuil, the governor atMontreal; but to the eternal disgrace of this man, he suffered many ofthem to be carried off, and did not even interfere when, publicly, inthe sight of the whole town, the Indians murdered some of theprisoners, and, not content with eating them themselves, forced theircomrades to partake of the flesh. Bougainville, one of theaides-de-camp of Montcalm, was present, and testified to the fact, andthe story is confirmed by the intendant Bigot, a friend of thegovernor. 

The ferocity of the Indians cost them dear. They had dug up and scalpedthe corpses in the graveyard of Fort William Henry. Many of these haddied of smallpox, and the savages took the infection home to theirvillages, where great numbers perished of the disease. 

As soon as their Indian allies had left, the French soldiers were setto work demolishing the English fort, and the operation was completedby the destruction, by fire, of the remains. The army then returned toCrown Point. 

In view of the gross breach of the articles of capitulation by theFrench, the English government refused also to be bound by it, and theFrench prisoners in their hands were accordingly retained. 

Colonel Monro himself was one of those who survived. He had made hisway through the savages back to the fort, to demand that the protectionof the French troops should be given to the soldiers, and so escapedthe massacre. 

Upon his arrival at Albany, James reported, to the officer in commandthere, the reason which had induced him to quit the fort with hiscompany. These reasons were approved of, but the officer advised Jamesto send in a written report to General Webb, and to march at once toFort Edward, and place himself under that officer's directions. 

When he reached the fort, the fugitives were coming in from the woods. James at once reported himself to the general, and handed in hiswritten statement. At the same time he gave his reasons, in a fewwords, for the course he had taken. Webb was far too much excited bythe news of the terrible events which had taken place, and for which, as he could not but be aware, he would be to some extent heldresponsible, by public opinion, for having refused to move to Monro'sassistance, to pay much attention to the young officer's statement. 

"You were quite right, sir, quite right to carry off your command, " hesaid hastily. "Thank God there are so many the fewer of his majesty'stroops sacrificed! You will please take your company out at once intothe woods. They are accustomed to the work, which is more than any ofmy troops here are. Divide them into four parties, and let them scourthe forest, and bring in such of the fugitives as they can find. Letthem take as much provisions and rum as they can carry, for many of thefugitives will be starving. "

James executed his orders, and, during the next five days, sent in aconsiderable number of exhausted men, who, hopelessly lost in thewoods, must have perished unless they had been discovered by his party. 

Had Montcalm marched direct upon Fort Edward, he could doubtless havecaptured it, for the fall of Fort William Henry had so scared Webb, that he would probably have retreated the moment he heard the news ofMontcalm's advance, although, within a day or two of the fall of thefort, many thousands of colonial militia had arrived. As soon, however, as it was known that Montcalm had retired, the militia, who werealtogether unsupplied with the means of keeping the field, returned totheir homes. 

Loudon, on his way back from the unsuccessful expedition againstLouisbourg, received the news of the calamity at Fort William Henry. Hereturned too late to do anything to retrieve that disaster, anddetermined, in the spring, to take the offensive by attackingTiconderoga. This had been left, on the retirement of Montcalm, with asmall garrison commanded by Captain Hepecourt, who, during the winter, was continually harassed by the corps of Captain Rogers, and JamesWalsham's scouts. 

Toward the spring, receiving reinforcements, Hepecourt caught Rogersand a hundred and eighty men in an ambush, and killed almost all ofthem; Rogers himself, and some twenty or thirty men, alone escaping. 

In the spring there was a fresh change of plans. The expedition againstTiconderoga was given up, as another attempt at Louisbourg was about tobe made. The English government were determined that the disastrousdelays, which had caused the failure of the last expedition, should notbe repeated. Loudon was recalled, and to General Abercromby, the secondin command, was intrusted the charge of the forces in the colonies. Colonel Amherst was raised to the rank of major general, and appointedto command the expedition from England against Louisbourg, having underhim Brigadier Generals Whitmore, Lawrence, and Wolfe. Before the winterwas ended two fleets put to sea: the one, under Admiral Boscawen, wasdestined for Louisbourg; while the other, under Admiral Osborne, sailedfor the Straits of Gibraltar, to intercept the French fleet of AdmiralLa Clue, which was about to sail from Toulon for America. 

At the same time Sir Edward Hawke, with seven ships of the line andthree frigates, sailed for Rochefort, where a French squadron with afleet of transports, with troops for America, were lying. 

The two latter expeditions were perfectly successful. Osborne preventedLa Clue from leaving the Mediterranean. Hawke drove the enemy's vesselsashore at Rochefort, and completely broke up the expedition. ThusCanada, at the critical period, when the English were preparing tostrike a great blow at her, was cut off from all assistance from themother country, and left to her own resources. 

As before, Halifax was the spot where the troops from the colonies wereto meet the fleet from England, and the troops who came out under theirconvoy, and here, on the 28th of May, the whole expedition wascollected. The colonies had again been partially stripped of theirdefenders, and five hundred provincial rangers accompanied theregulars. James Walsham's corps was left for service on the frontier, while the regiments, to which they belonged, sailed with the forcedestined for the siege of Louisbourg. 

This fortress stood, at the mouth of a land-locked bay, on the stormycoast of Cape Breton. Since the peace of Aix la Chapelle, vast sums hadbeen spent in repairing and strengthening it, and it was, by far, thestrongest fortress in English or French America. The circuit of itsfortifications was more than a mile and a half, and the town containedabout four thousand inhabitants. The garrison consisted of thebattalions of Artois, Bourgogne, Cambis, and Volontaires Etrangers, with two companies of artillery, and twenty-four of colonial troops; inall, three thousand and eighty men, besides officers. In the harbourlay five ships of the line and seven frigates, carrying five hundredand forty-four guns, and about three thousand men, and there were twohundred and nineteen cannons and seventeen mortars mounted on theramparts and outworks, and forty-four in reserve. 

Of the outworks, the strongest were the grand battery at LighthousePoint, at the mouth of the harbour; and that on Goat Island, a rockyislet at its entrance. The strongest front of the works was on the landside, across the base of the triangular peninsula on which the townstood. This front, twelve hundred yards in extent, reached from thesea, on the left, to the harbour on the right, and consisted of fourstrong bastions with connecting works. 

The best defence of Louisbourg, however, was the craggy shore, which, for leagues on either side, was accessible only at a few points, and, even there, a landing could only be effected with the greatestdifficulty. All these points were watched, for an English squadron, ofnine ships of war, had been cruising off the place, endeavouring toprevent supplies from arriving; but they had been so often blown off, by gales, that the French ships had been able to enter, and, on the 2ndof June, when the English expedition came in sight, more than a year'ssupply of provisions was stored up in the town. 

Chapter 17: Louisbourg And Ticonderoga. 

All eyes in the fleet were directed towards the rocky shore of GabarusBay, a flat indentation some three miles across, its eastern extremity, White Point, being a mile to the west of Louisbourg. The sea was rough, and the white masses of surf were thrown high up upon the face of therock, along the coast, as far as the eye could reach. 

A more difficult coast on which to effect a landing could not have beenselected. There were but three points where boats could, even in fineweather, get to shore--namely, White Point, Flat Point, and Fresh WaterCove. To cover these, the French had erected several batteries, and, assoon as the English fleet was in sight, they made vigorous preparationsto repel a landing. 

Boats were at once lowered, in order to make a reconnaissance of theshore. Generals Amherst, Lawrence, and Wolfe all took part in it, and anumber of naval officers, in their boats, daringly approached the shoreto almost within musket shot. When they returned, in the afternoon, they made their reports to the admiral, and these reports all agreedwith his own opinion--namely, that there was but little chance ofsuccess. One naval captain alone, an old officer named Fergusson, advised the admiral to hold no council of war, but to take theresponsibility on himself, and to make the attempt at all risks. 

"Why, admiral, " he said, "the very children at home would laugh at us, if, for a second time, we sailed here with an army, and then sailedaway again without landing a man. "

"So they would, Fergusson, so they would, " the admiral said. "If I haveto stop here till winter, I won't go till I have carried out my orders, and put the troops ashore. "

In addition to the three possible landing places already named, was oneto the east of the town named Lorambec, and it was determined to send aregiment to threaten a landing at this place, while the army, formedinto three divisions, were to threaten the other points, and effect alanding at one or all of them, if it should be found possible. 

On the next day, however, the 3rd of June, the surf was so high thatnothing could be attempted. On the 4th there was a thick fog and agale, and the frigate Trent struck on a rock, and some of thetransports were nearly blown on shore. The sea was very heavy, and thevessels rolled tremendously at their anchors. Most of the troopssuffered terribly from seasickness. 

The next day, the weather continued thick and stormy. On the 6th therewas fog, but towards noon the wind went down, whereupon the signal wasmade, the boats were lowered, and the troops took their places in them. Scarcely had they done so, when the wind rose again, and the sea got upso rapidly that the landing was postponed. 

The next day the fog and heavy surf continued, but in the evening thesea grew calmer, and orders were issued for the troops to take to theboats, at two o'clock next morning. This was done, and the frigates gotunder sail, and steered for the four points at which the real orpretended attacks were to be made, and, anchoring within easy range, opened fire soon after daylight; while the boats, in three divisions, rowed towards the shore. 

The division under Wolfe consisted of twelve companies of Grenadiers, with the Light infantry, Fraser's Highlanders, and the New EnglandRangers. Fresh Water Cove was a crescent-shaped beach a quarter of amile long, with rocks at each end. On the shore above lay 1000Frenchmen under Lieutenant Colonel de Saint Julien, with eight cannons, on swivels, planted to sweep every part of the beach. Theintrenchments, behind which the troops were lying, were covered infront by spruce and fir trees, felled and laid on the ground with thetops outward. 

Not a shot was fired until the English boats approached the beach, then, from behind the leafy screen, a deadly storm of grape andmusketry was poured upon them. It was clear at once that to advancewould be destruction, and Wolfe waved his hand as a signal to the boatsto sheer off. 

On the right of the line, and but little exposed to the fire, werethree boats of the Light Infantry under Lieutenants Hopkins and Brown, and Ensign Grant, who, mistaking the signal, or wilfullymisinterpreting it, dashed for the shore directly before them. It was ahundred yards or so east of the beach--a craggy coast, lashed by thebreakers, but sheltered from the cannon by a small projecting point. 

The three young officers leapt ashore, followed by their men. MajorScott, who commanded the Light Infantry and Rangers, was in the nextboat, and at once followed the others, putting his boat's head straightto the shore. The boat was crushed to pieces against the rocks. Some ofthe men were drowned, but the rest scrambled up the rocks, and joinedthose who had first landed. They were instantly attacked by the French, and half of the little party were killed or wounded before the rest ofthe division could come to their assistance. 

Some of the boats were upset, and others stove in, but most of the menscrambled ashore, and, as soon as he landed, Wolfe led them up therocks, where they formed in compact order and carried, with thebayonet, the nearest French battery. 

The other divisions, seeing that Wolfe had effected a landing, camerapidly up, and, as the French attention was now distracted by Wolfe'sattack on the left, Amherst and Lawrence were able to land at the otherend of the beach, and, with their divisions, attacked the French on theright. 

These, assaulted on both sides, and fearing to be cut off from thetown, abandoned their cannon and fled into the woods. Some seventy ofthem were taken prisoners, and fifty killed. The rest made their waythrough the woods and marshes to Louisbourg, and the French in theother batteries commanding the landing places, seeing that the Englishwere now firmly established on the shore, also abandoned the positions, and retreated to the town. 

General Amherst established the English camp just beyond the range ofthe cannon on the ramparts, and the fleet set to work to land guns andstores at Flat Point Cove. For some days this work went on; but soviolent was the surf, that more than a hundred boats were stove in inaccomplishing it, and none of the siege guns could be landed till the18th. While the sailors were so engaged, the troops were busy makingroads and throwing up redoubts to protect their position. 

Wolfe, with 1200 men, made his way right round the harbour, and tookpossession of the battery at Lighthouse Point which the French hadabandoned; planted guns and mortars there, and opened fire on thebattery on the islet which guarded the entrance to the harbour; whileother batteries were raised, at different points along the shore, andopened fire upon the French ships. These replied, and the artilleryduel went on night and day, until, on the 25th, the battery on theislet was silenced. Leaving a portion of his force in the batteries hehad erected, Wolfe returned to the main army in front of the town. 

In the meantime, Amherst had not been idle. Day and night a thousandmen had been employed, making a covered road across a swamp to ahillock less than half a mile from the ramparts. The labour wasimmense, and the troops worked knee deep in mud and water. 

When Wolfe had silenced the battery on the islet, the way was open forthe English fleet to enter and engage the ships and town from theharbour, but the French took advantage of a dark and foggy night, andsank six ships across the entrance. 

On the 25th, the troops had made the road to the hillock, and began tofortify themselves there, under a heavy fire from the French; while onthe left, towards the sea, about a third of a mile from the Princess'sBastion, Wolfe, with a strong detachment, began to throw up a redoubt. 

On the night of the 9th of July, 600 French troops sallied out andattacked this work. The English, though fighting desperately, were fora time driven back; but, being reinforced, they drove the French backinto the town. 

Each day the English lines drew closer to the town. The French frigateEcho, under cover of a fog, had been sent to Quebec for aid, but shewas chased and captured. The frigate Arethuse, on the night of the 14thof July, was towed through the obstructions at the mouth of theharbour, and, passing through the English ships in a fog, succeeded ingetting away. Only five vessels of the French fleet now remained in theharbour, and these were but feebly manned, as 2000 of the officers andseamen had landed, and were encamped in the town. 

On the afternoon of the 16th a party of English, led by Wolfe, suddenlydashed forward, and, driving back a company of French, seized somerising ground within three hundred yards of the ramparts, and began tointrench themselves there. All night, the French kept up a furious fireat the spot, but, by morning, the English had completed theirintrenchment, and from this point pushed on, until they had reached thefoot of the glacis. 

On the 21st, the French man of war Celebre was set on fire by theexplosion of a shell. The wind blew the flames into the rigging of twoof her consorts, and these also caught fire, and the three ships burnedto the water's edge. Several fires were occasioned in the town, and theEnglish guns, of which a great number were now in position, kept up astorm of fire night and day. 

On the night of the 23rd, six hundred English sailors silently rowedinto the harbour, cut the cables of the two remaining French men ofwar, and tried to tow them out. One, however, was aground, for the tidewas low. The sailors therefore set her on fire, and then towed herconsort out of the harbour, amidst a storm of shot and shell from theFrench batteries. 

The French position was now desperate. Only four cannon, on the sidefacing the English batteries, were fit for service. The masonry of theramparts was shaken, and the breaches were almost complete. A fourth ofthe garrison were in hospital, and the rest were worn out by toil. Every house in the place was shattered by the English artillery, andthere was no shelter either for the troops or the inhabitants. 

On the 26th, the last French cannon was silenced, and a breach effectedin the wall; and the French, unable longer to resist, hung out thewhite flag. They attempted to obtain favourable conditions, butBoscawen and Amherst insisted upon absolute surrender, and the French, wholly unable to resist further, accepted the terms. 

Thus fell the great French stronghold on Cape Breton. The defence hadbeen a most gallant one; and Drucour, the governor, although he couldnot save the fortress, had yet delayed the English so long before thewalls, that it was too late in the season, now, to attempt an attack onCanada itself. 

Wolfe, indeed, urged that an expedition should at once be sent againstQuebec, but Boscawen was opposed to this, owing to the lateness of theseason, and Amherst was too slow and deliberate, by nature, todetermine suddenly on the enterprise. He, however, sailed with sixregiments for Boston, to reinforce Abercromby at Lake George. 

Wolfe carried out the orders of the general, to destroy the Frenchsettlements on the Gulf of Saint Lawrence--a task most repugnant to hishumane nature. After this had been accomplished, he sailed for England. 

When Amherst had sailed with his expedition to the attack ofLouisbourg, he had not left the colonists in so unprotected a state asthey had been in the preceding year. They, on their part, respondednobly to the call, from England, that a large force should be put inthe field. The home government had promised to supply arms, ammunition, tents, and provisions, and to make a grant towards the pay and clothingof the soldiers. 

Massachusetts, as usual, responded most freely and loyally to thedemand. She had already incurred a very heavy debt by her efforts inthe war, and had supplied 2500 men--a portion of whom had gone withAmherst--but she now raised 7000 more, whom she paid, maintained, andclothed out of her own resources, thus placing in the field one-fourthof her able-bodied men. Connecticut made equal sacrifices, althoughless exposed to danger of invasion; while New Hampshire sent outone-third of her able-bodied men. 

In June the combined British and provincial force, under Abercromby, gathered on the site of Fort William Henry. The force consisted of 6367officers and soldiers of the regular army, and 9054 colonial troops. 

Abercromby himself was an infirm and incapable man, who owed hisposition to political influence. The real command was in the hands ofBrigadier General Lord Howe--a most energetic and able officer, whohad, during the past year, thoroughly studied forest warfare, and hadmade several expeditions with the scouting parties of Rogers and otherfrontier leaders. He was a strict disciplinarian, but threw aside allthe trammels of the traditions of the service. He made both officersand men dress in accordance with the work they had before them. All hadto cut their hair close, to wear leggings to protect them from thebriars, and to carry in their knapsacks thirty pounds of meal, whicheach man had to cook for himself. The coats, of both the Regulars andProvincials, were cut short at the waist, and no officer or private wasallowed to carry more than one blanket and a bear skin. 

Howe himself lived as simply and roughly as his men. The soldiers weredevoted to their young commander, and were ready to follow him to thedeath. 

"That's something like a man for a general, " Nat said enthusiastically, as he marched, with the Royal Scouts, past the spot where Lord Howe wassitting on the ground, eating his dinner with a pocket knife. 

"I have never had much hope of doing anything, before, with theregulars in the forest, but I do think, this time, we have got a chanceof licking the French. What do you say, captain?"

"It looks more hopeful, Nat, certainly. Under Loudon and Webb thingsdid not look very bright, but this is a different sort of generalaltogether. "

On the evening of the 4th of July baggage, stores, and ammunition wereall on board the boats, and the whole army embarked at daybreak on the5th. It was indeed a magnificent sight, as the flotilla started. Itconsisted of 900 troop boats, 135 whale boats, and a large number ofheavy flatboats carrying the artillery. They were in three divisions, the regulars in the centre, the provincial troops on either flank. 

Each corps had its flags and its music, the day was fair and bright, and, as the flotilla swept on past the verdure-clad hills, with the sunshining brilliantly down on the bright uniforms and gay flags, on theflash of oars and the glitter of weapons, a fairer sight was seldomwitnessed. 

At five in the afternoon, they reached Sabbath Day Point, twenty-fivemiles down the lake, where they halted some time for the baggage andartillery. At eleven o'clock they started again, and by daybreak werenearing the outlet of the lake. 

An advanced party of the French were watching their movements, and adetachment was seen, near the shore, at the spot where the French hadembarked on the previous year. The companies of Rogers and JamesWalsham landed, and drove them off, and by noon the whole army was onshore. 

The troops started in four columns, but so dense was the forest, soobstructed with undergrowth, that they could scarcely make their way, and, after a time, even the guides became confused in the labyrinth oftrunks and boughs, and the four columns insensibly drew near to eachother. 

Curiously, the French advanced party, 350 strong, who had tried toretreat, also became lost in the wood, and, not knowing where theEnglish were, in their wanderings again approached them. As they did soLord Howe, who, with Major Putnam, and 200 rangers and scouts, was atthe head of the principal column, suddenly came upon them. A skirmishfollowed. Scarcely had it begun when Lord Howe dropped dead, shotthrough the breast. For a moment, something like a panic seized thearmy, who believed that they had fallen into an ambush, and thatMontcalm's whole force was upon them. The rangers, however, foughtsteadily, until Rogers' Rangers and the Royal Scouts, who were out infront, came back and took the French in the rear. Only about 50 ofthese escaped, 148 were captured, and the rest killed or drowned inendeavouring to cross the rapids. 

The loss of the English was small in numbers, but the death of Howeinflicted an irreparable blow upon the army. As Major Mante, who waspresent, wrote:

"In Lord Howe, the soul of General Abercromby's army seemed to expire. From the unhappy moment that the general was deprived of his advice, neither order nor discipline was observed, and a strange kind ofinfatuation usurped the place of resolution. "

The loss of its gallant young general was, indeed, the destruction ofan army of 15, 000 men. Abercromby seemed paralysed by the stroke, andcould do nothing, and the soldiers were needlessly kept under arms allnight in the forest, and, in the morning, were ordered back to thelanding place. 

At noon, however, Bradstreet was sent out to take possession of thesawmill, at the falls which Montcalm had abandoned the evening before. Bradstreet rebuilt the two bridges, which had been destroyed by theenemy, and the army then advanced, and in the evening occupied thedeserted encampment of the French. 

Montcalm had, for some days, been indecisive as to his course. Hisforce was little more than a fourth of that of the advancing foe. Hehad, for some time, been aware of the storm which was preparing againsthim. Vaudreuil, the governor, had at first intended to send a body ofCanadians and Indians, under General Levis, down the valley of theMohawk to create a diversion, but this scheme had been abandoned, and, instead of sending Levis, with his command, to the assistance ofMontcalm, he had kept them doing nothing at Montreal. 

Just about the hour Lord Howe was killed, Montcalm fell back with hisforce from his position by the falls, and resolved to make a stand atthe base of the peninsula on which Ticonderoga stands. The outline ofthe works had already been traced, and the soldiers of the battalion ofBerry had made some progress in constructing them. At daybreak, just asAbercromby was drawing his troops back to the landing place, Montcalm'swhole army set to work. Thousands of trees were hewn down, and thetrunks piled one upon another, so as to form a massive breastwork. Theline followed the top of the ridge, with many zigzags, so that thewhole front could be swept by a fire of musketry and grape. The logwall was eight or nine feet high, and the upper tier was formed ofsingle logs, in which notches were cut to serve as loopholes. The wholespace in front was cleared of trees, for the distance of a musket shot, the trees being felled so that their tops turned outwards, forming analmost impenetrable obstacle, while, immediately in front of the logwall, the ground was covered with heavy boughs, overlapping andinterlaced, their points being sharpened. This position was, in fact, absolutely impregnable against an attack, in front, by infantry. 

It was true that Abercromby might have brought up his artillery, andbattered down the breastwork, or he might have planted a battery on theheights which commanded the position, or he might have marched aportion of his army through the woods, and placed them on the roadbetween Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and so have cut off the wholeFrench army, and forced them to surrender, for they had but eight days'provisions. But Howe was dead, there was no longer leading orgeneralship, and Abercromby, leaving his cannon behind him, marched hisarmy to make a direct attack on the French intrenchment. 

In the course of the night Levis, with 400 of his men, arrived, and theFrench were in readiness for the attack. The battalions of La Sarre andLanguedoc were posted on the left under Bourlamaque, Berry and RoyalRoussillon in the centre under Montcalm, La Reine, Beam, and Guienne onthe right under Levis. A detachment of volunteers occupied the lowground between the breastwork and the outlet of Lake George, while 450Canadian troops held an abattis on the side towards Lake Champlain, where they were covered by the guns of the fort. 

Until noon, the French worked unceasingly to strengthen their position, then a heavy fire broke out in front, as the rangers and light infantrydrove in their pickets. As soon as the English issued from the wood, they opened fire, and then the regulars, formed in columns of attack, pushed forward across the rough ground with its maze of fallen trees. They could see the top of the breastwork, but not the men behind it, and as soon as they were fairly entangled in the trees, a terrific fireopened upon them. The English pushed up close to the breastwork, butthey could not pass the bristling mass of sharpened branches, whichwere swept by a terrific crossfire from the intrenchment. Afterstriving for an hour, they fell back. Abercromby, who had remained atthe mill a mile and a half in the rear, sent orders for them to attackagain. 

Never did the English fight with greater bravery. Six times did theyadvance to the attack, but the task set them was impossible. At five inthe afternoon, two English columns made an assault on the extreme rightof the French, and, although Montcalm hastened to the spot with hisreserves, they nearly succeeded in breaking through, hewing their wayright to the very foot of the breastwork, and renewing the attack overand over again, the Highland regiment, which led the column, fightingwith desperate valour, and not retiring until its major and twenty-fiveof the officers were killed or wounded, and half the men had fallenunder the deadly fire. 

At six o'clock another desperate attempt was made, but in vain; thenthe regulars fell back in disorder, but, for an hour and a half, theprovincials and rangers kept up a fire, while their comrades removedthe wounded. Abercromby had lost in killed, wounded, and missing 1944officers and men, while the loss of the French was 377. 

Even now, Abercromby might have retrieved his repulse, for, with 13, 000men still remaining, against 3300 unwounded Frenchmen, he could stillhave easily forced them to surrender, by planting cannons on theheights, or by cutting off their communication and food. 

He did neither, but, at daybreak, re-embarked his army, and retiredwith all speed down the lake. Montcalm soon received largereinforcements, and sent out scouting parties. One of these caught aparty commanded by Captain Rogers in an ambush, but were finally drivenback, with such heavy loss that, from that time, few scouting partieswere sent out from Ticonderoga. 

In October, Montcalm, with the main portion of his army, retired forthe winter to Montreal; while the English fell back to Albany. 

While Abercromby was lying inactive at the head of Lake George, Brigadier General Forbes had advanced from Virginia against FortDuquesne, and, after immense labour and hardships, succeeded inarriving at the fort, which the French evacuated at his approach, having burnt the barracks and storehouses, and blown up thefortifications. A stockade was formed, and a fort afterwards builtthere. This was called Fort Pitt, and the place itself, Pittsburg. Asmall garrison was left there, and the army, after having collected andburied the bones of Braddock's men, retired to Virginia. The general, who, though suffering terribly from disease, had steadfastly carriedout the enterprise in the face of enormous difficulties, died shortlyafter the force returned to the settlements. 

Another successful enterprise, during the autumn, had been the captureof Fort Frontenac, and the gaining of a foothold by the English on LakeOntario. 

Thus, the campaign of 1758 was, on the whole, disastrous to the French. They had held their own triumphantly at Ticonderoga, but they had losttheir great fortress of Louisbourg, their right had been forced back bythe capture of Fort Duquesne, and their line of communication cut bythe destruction of Fort Frontenac. 

Chapter 18: Quebec. 

In the following spring, the French prepared to resist the seriousattack which they expected would be made by way of Lake Champlain andOntario. But a greater danger was threatening them, for, in the midstof their preparations, the news arrived from France that a great fleetwas on its way, from England, to attack Quebec. The town was filledwith consternation and surprise, for the Canadians had believed thatthe navigation of the Saint Lawrence was too difficult and dangerousfor any hostile fleet to attempt. Their spirits rose however when, afew days later, a fleet of twenty-three ships, ladened with suppliesfrom France, sailed up the river. 

A day or two later, the British fleet was at the mouth of the SaintLawrence, and the whole forces of the colony, except three battalionsposted at Ticonderoga, and a strong detachment placed so as to resistany hostile movement from Lake Ontario, were mustered at Quebec. Herewere gathered five French battalions, the whole of the Canadian troopsand militia, and upwards of a thousand Indians, in all amounting tomore than sixteen thousand. 

The position was an extremely strong one. The main force was encampedon the high ground below Quebec, with their right resting on the SaintCharles River, and the left on the Montmorenci, a distance of betweenseven and eight miles. The front was covered by steep ground, whichrose nearly from the edge of the Saint Lawrence, and the right wascovered by the guns of the citadel of Quebec. A boom of logs, chainedtogether, was laid across the mouth of the Saint Charles, which wasfurther guarded by two hulks mounted with cannon. A bridge of boats, crossing the river a mile higher up, connected the city with the camp. 

All the gates of Quebec, except that of Saint Charles, which faced thebridge, were closed and barricaded. A hundred and six cannon weremounted on the walls, while a floating battery of twelve heavy pieces, a number of gunboats, and eight fire ships formed the river defences. 

The frigates, which had convoyed the merchant fleet, were taken higherup the river, and a thousand of their seamen came down, from Quebec, toman the batteries and gunboats. 

Against this force of sixteen thousand men, posted behind defensiveworks, on a position almost impregnable by nature, General Wolfe wasbringing less than nine thousand troops. The steep and lofty heights, that lined the river, rendered the cannon of the ships useless to him, and the exigencies of the fleet, in such narrow and difficultnavigation, prevented the sailors being landed to assist the troops. 

A large portion of Montcalm's army, indeed, consisted of Canadians, whowere of little use in the open field, but could be trusted to fightwell behind intrenchments. 

Wolfe was, unfortunately, in extremely bad health when he was selected, by Pitt, to command the expedition against Quebec; but under him wereBrigadier Generals Monckton, Townshend, and Murray, all good officers. 

The fleet consisted of twenty-two ships of war, with frigates andsloops, and a great number of transports. It was, at first, dividedinto three squadrons. That under Admiral Durell sailed direct for theSaint Lawrence, to intercept the ships from France, but arrived at itsdestination a few days too late. That of Admiral Holmes sailed for NewYork, to take on board a portion of the army of Amherst and Abercromby. That of Admiral Saunders sailed to Louisbourg, but, finding theentrance blocked with ice, went on to Halifax, where it was joined bythe squadron with the troops from New York. They then sailed again toLouisbourg, where they remained until the 6th of June, 1759, and thenjoined Durell at the mouth of the Saint Lawrence. 

Wolfe's force had been intended to be larger, and should have amountedto fourteen thousand men; but some regiments which were to have joinedhim from the West Indies were, at the last moment, countermanded, andAmherst, who no doubt felt some jealousy, at the command of thisimportant expedition being given to an officer who had served under hisorders at the taking of Louisbourg, sent a smaller contingent of troopsthan had been expected. 

Among the regiments which sailed was that of James Walsham. After thefight at Ticonderoga, in which upwards of half of his force had fallen, the little corps had been broken up, and the men had returned to dutywith their regiments. Owing to the number of officers who had fallen, James now stood high on the list of lieutenants. He had had enough ofscouting, and was glad to return to the regiment, his principal regretbeing that he had to part from his two trusty scouts. 

There was great joy, in the regiment, when the news was received thatthey were to go with the expedition against Quebec. They had formedpart of Wolf''s division at Louisbourg, and, like all who had servedwith him, regarded with enthusiasm and confidence the leader whosefrail body seemed wholly incapable of sustaining fatigue or hardship, but whose indomitable spirit and courage placed him ever in the front, and set an example which the bravest of his followers were proud toimitate. 

From time to time, James had received letters from home. Communicationwas irregular; but his mother and Mr. Wilks wrote frequently, andsometimes he received half a dozen letters at once. He had now beenabsent from home for four years, and his mother told him that he wouldscarcely recognize Aggie, who was now as tall as herself. Mrs. Walshamsaid that the girl was almost as interested as she was in his letters, and in the despatches from the war, in which his name had several timesbeen mentioned, in connection with the services rendered by his scouts. 

Richard Horton had twice, during James's absence, returned home. Thesquire, Mrs. Walsham said, had received him very coolly, in consequenceof the letter he had written when James was pressed as a seaman, andshe said that Aggie seemed to have taken a great objection to him. Shewondered, indeed, that he could stay an hour in the house after hisreception there; but he seemed as if he didn't notice it, and tookespecial pains to try and overcome Aggie's feeling against him. 

While waiting at the mouth of the Saint Lawrence, Admiral Durell hadsucceeded in obtaining pilots to take the fleet up the river. He hadsailed up the river to the point where the difficult navigation began, and where vessels generally took on board river pilots. Here he hoistedthe French flag at the masthead, and the pilots, believing the ships tobe a French squadron, which had eluded the watch of the English, cameoff in their boats, and were all taken prisoners, and forced, underpain of death, to take the English vessels safely up. 

The first difficulty of the passage was at Cape Tourmente, where thechannel describes a complete zigzag. Had the French planted some gunson a plateau, high up on the side of the mountains, they could havedone great damage by a plunging fire; but Vaudreuil had neglected totake this measure, and the fleet passed up in safety, the manner inwhich they were handled and navigated astonishing the Canadians, whohad believed it to be impossible that large ships could be taken up. 

On the 26th, the whole fleet were anchored off the Island of Orleans, afew miles below Quebec. The same night, a small party landed on theisland. They were opposed by the armed inhabitants, but beat them off, and, during the night, the Canadians crossed to the north shore. Thewhole army then landed. 

From the end of the island, Wolfe could see the full strength of theposition which he had come to attack. Three or four miles in front ofhim, the town of Quebec stood upon its elevated rock. Beyond rose theloftier height of Cape Diamond, with its redoubts and parapets. Threegreat batteries looked threateningly from the upper rock of Quebec, while three others were placed, near the edge of the water, in thelower town. On the right was the great camp of Montcalm, stretchingfrom the Saint Charles, at the foot of the city walls, to the gorge ofthe Montmorenci. From the latter point to the village of Beauport, inthe centre of the camp, the front was covered with earthworks, alongthe brink of a lofty height; and from Beauport to the Saint Charleswere broad flats of mud, swept by the fire of redoubts andintrenchments, by the guns of a floating battery, and by those of thecity itself. 

Wolfe could not see beyond Quebec, but, above the city, the positionwas even stronger than below. The river was walled by a range ofsteeps, often inaccessible, and always so difficult that a few mencould hold an army in check. 

Montcalm was perfectly confident of his ability to resist any attackwhich the British might make. Bougainville had long before examined theposition, in view of the possibility of an English expedition againstit, and reported that, with a few intrenchments, the city would be safeif defended by three or four thousand men. Sixteen thousand were nowgathered there, and Montcalm might well believe the position to beimpregnable. 

He was determined to run no risk, by advancing to give battle, but toremain upon the defensive till the resources of the English wereexhausted, or till the approach of winter forced them to retire. Hisonly source of uneasiness lay in the south, for he feared that Amherst, with his army, might capture Ticonderoga and advance into the colony, in which case he must weaken his army, by sending a force to opposehim. 

On the day after the army landed on the island, a sudden and veryviolent squall drove several of the ships ashore, and destroyed many ofthe flatboats. On the following night, the sentries at the end of theisland saw some vessels coming down the river. Suddenly these burstinto flames. They were the fire ships, which Vaudreuil had sent down todestroy the fleet. They were filled with pitch, tar, and all sorts ofcombustibles, with shell and grenades mixed up with them, while ontheir decks were a number of cannon, crammed to the mouth withgrapeshot and musketballs. 

Fortunately for the English, the French naval officer in command losthis nerve, and set fire to his ship half an hour too soon; the othercaptains following his example. This gave the English time to recoverfrom the first feeling of consternation at seeing the fire ships, eacha pillar of flame, advancing with tremendous explosion and noiseagainst them. The troops at once got under arms, lest the French shouldattack them, while the vessels lowered their boats, and the sailorsrowed up to meet the fire ships. When they neared them, they threwgrapnels on board, and towed them towards land until they werestranded, and then left them to burn out undisturbed. 

Finding that it would be impossible to effect a landing, under the fireof the French guns, Wolfe determined, as a first step, to seize theheight of Point Levi opposite Quebec. From this point he could fire onthe town across the Saint Lawrence, which is, here, less than a milewide. 

On the afternoon of the 29th, Monckton's brigade crossed, in the boats, to Beaumont on the south shore. His advanced guard had a skirmish witha party of Canadians, but these soon fell back, and no furtheropposition was offered to the landing. 

In the morning a proclamation, issued by Wolfe, was posted on the doorsof the parish churches. It called upon the Canadians to stand neutralin the contest, promising them, if they did so, full protection totheir property and religion; but threatening that, if they resisted, their houses, goods, and harvest should be destroyed, and theirchurches sacked. 

The brigade marched along the river to Point Levi, and drove off a bodyof French and Indians posted there, and, the next morning, began tothrow up intrenchments and to form batteries. Wolfe did not expect thathis guns here could do any serious damage to the fortifications ofQuebec. His object was partly to discourage the inhabitants of the cityexposed to his fire, partly to keep up the spirits of his own troops bysetting them to work. 

The guns of Quebec kept up a continual fire against the workingparties, but the batteries continued to rise, and the citizens, alarmedat the destruction which threatened their houses, asked the governor toallow them to cross the river, and dislodge the English. Although hehad no belief that they would succeed, he thought it better to allowthem to try. Accordingly, some fifteen hundred armed citizens, andCanadians from the camp, with a few Indians, and a hundred volunteersfrom the regulars, marched up the river, and crossed on the night ofthe 12th of July. 

The courage of the citizens evaporated very quickly, now they were onthe same side of the river as the English, although still three milesfrom them. In a short time a wild panic seized them. They rushed backin extreme disorder to their boats, crossed the river, and returned toQuebec. 

The English guns soon opened, and carried destruction into the city. Inone day eighteen houses, and the cathedral, were burned by explodingshells; and the citizens soon abandoned their homes, and fled into thecountry. 

The destruction of the city, however, even if complete, would haveadvanced Wolfe's plans but little. It was a moral blow at the enemy, but nothing more. 

On the 8th of July, several frigates took their station before the campof General Levis, who, with his division of Canadian militia, occupiedthe heights along the Saint Lawrence next to the gorge of Montmorenci. Here they opened fire with shell, and continued it till nightfall. Owing to the height of the plateau on which the camp was situated, theydid but little damage, but the intention of Wolfe was simply to keepthe enemy occupied and under arms. 

Towards evening, the troops on the island broke up their camp, and, leaving a detachment of marines to hold the post, the brigades ofTownshend and Murray, three thousand strong, embarked after nightfallin the boats of the fleet, and landed a little below the Montmorenci, At daybreak, they climbed the heights, and, routing a body of Canadiansand Indians who opposed them, gained the plateau and began to intrenchthemselves there. 

A company of rangers, supported by the regulars, was sent into theneighbouring forests; to prevent the parties from cutting bushes forthe fascines, to explore the bank of the Montmorenci, and, if possible, to discover a ford across the river. 

Levis, with his aide-de-camp, a Jacobite Scotchman named Johnston, waswatching the movements of Wolfe from the heights above the gorge. Levisbelieved that no ford existed, but Johnston found a man who had, onlythat morning, crossed. A detachment was at once sent to the place, withorders to intrench themselves, and Levis posted eleven hundredCanadians, under Repentigny, close by in support. 

Four hundred Indians passed the ford, and discovered the Englishdetachment in the forest, and Langlade, their commander, recrossed theriver, and told Repentigny that there was a body of English, in theforest, who might be destroyed if he would cross at once with hisCanadians. Repentigny sent to Levis, and Levis to Vaudreuil, then threeor four miles distant. 

Before Vaudreuil arrived on the spot, the Indians became impatient andattacked the rangers; and drove them back, with loss, upon theregulars, who stood their ground, and repulsed the assailants. TheIndians, however, carried thirty-six scalps across the ford. 

If Repentigny had advanced when first called upon, and had beenfollowed by Levis with his whole command, the English might havesuffered a very severe check, for the Canadians were as much superiorto the regulars, in the forest, as the regulars to the Canadians in theopen. 

Vaudreuil called a council of war, but he and Montcalm agreed not toattack the English, who were, on their part, powerless to injure them. Wolfe's position on the heights was indeed a dangerous one. A third ofhis force was six miles away, on the other side of the Saint Lawrence, and the detachment on the island was separated from each by a wide armof the river. Any of the three were liable to be attacked andoverpowered, before the others could come to its assistance. 

Wolfe, indeed, was soon well intrenched, but, although safe againstattack, he was powerless to take the offensive. The fact, however, thathe had taken up his position so near their camp, had discomfited theCanadians, and his battery played, with considerable effect, on theleft of their camp. 

The time passed slowly. The deep and impassable gulf of the Montmorenciseparated the two enemies, but the crests of the opposite cliffs werewithin easy gunshot of each other, and men who showed themselves nearthe edge ran a strong chance of being hit. Along the river, from theMontmorenci to Point Levi, continued fighting went on between the gunsof the frigates, and the gunboats and batteries on shore. The Indiansswarmed in the forest, near the English camp, and constant skirmishingwent on between them and the rangers. 

The steady work of destruction going on in the city of Quebec, by thefire from Point Levi, and the ceaseless cannonade kept up by the shipsand Wolfe's batteries; added to the inactivity to which they werecondemned, began to dispirit the Canadian militia, and many desertionstook place, the men being anxious to return to their villages and lookafter the crops; and many more would have deserted, had it not been forthe persuasion of the priests, and the fear of being maltreated by theIndians, whom the governor threatened to let loose upon any who shouldwaver in their resistance. 

On the 18th of July a fresh move was made by the English. The Frenchhad believed it impossible for any hostile ships to pass the batteriesof Quebec; but, covered by a furious cannonade from Point Levi, the manof war Sutherland, with a frigate and several small vessels, aided by afavouring wind, ran up the river at night and passed above the town. Montcalm at once despatched six hundred men, under Dumas, to defend theaccessible points in the line of precipices above Quebec, and on thefollowing day, when it became known that the English had dragged afleet of boats over Point Levi, and had launched them above the town, areinforcement of several hundreds more was sent to Dumas. 

On the night of the 20th Colonel Carleton, with six hundred men, rowedeighteen miles up the river, and landed at Pointe aux Trembles on thenorth shore. Here, many of the fugitives from Quebec had taken refuge, and a hundred women, children and old men were taken prisoners byCarleton, and brought down the next day with the retiring force. Wolfeentertained the prisoners kindly, and sent them, on the following day, with a flag of truce into Quebec. 

On the night of the 28th, the French made another attempt to burn theEnglish fleet, sending down a large number of schooners, shallops, andrafts, chained together, and filled, as before, with combustibles. 

This time, the fire was not applied too soon, and the English fleet wasfor some time in great danger, but was again saved by the sailors, who, in spite of the storm of missiles, vomited out by cannon, swivels, grenades, shell, and gun and pistol barrels loaded up to the muzzle, grappled with the burning mass, and towed it on shore. 

It was now the end of July, and Wolfe was no nearer taking Quebec thanupon the day when he first landed there. In vain he had temptedMontcalm to attack him. The French general, confident in the strengthof his position, refused to leave it. 

Wolfe therefore determined to attack the camp in front. The plan was adesperate one, for, after leaving troops enough to hold his two camps, he had less than five thousand men to attack a position of commandingstrength, where Montcalm could, at an hour's notice, collect twice asmany to oppose him. 

At a spot about a mile above the gorge of the Montmorenci a flat stripof ground, some two hundred yards wide, lay between the river and thefoot of the precipices, and, at low tide, the river left a flat of mud, nearly half a mile wide, beyond the dry ground. 

Along the edge of the high-water mark, the French had built severalredoubts. From the river, Wolfe could not see that these redoubts werecommanded by the musketry of the intrenchments along the edge of theheights above, which also swept with their fire the whole face of thedeclivity, which was covered with grass, and was extremely steep. Wolfehoped that, if he attacked one of the redoubts, the French would comedown to defend it, and that a battle might be so brought on; or that, if they did not do so, he might find a spot where the heights could bestormed with some chance of success. At low tide, it was possible toford the mouth of the Montmorenci, and Wolfe intended that the troopsfrom his camp, on the heights above that river, should cross here, andadvance along the strand to cooperate with Monckton's brigade, who wereto cross from Point Levi. 

On the morning of the 31st of July, the Centurion, of 64 guns; and twoarmed transports, each with 14 guns, stood close in to one of theredoubts, and opened fire upon it; while the English batteries, fromthe heights of the Montmorenci, opened fire across the chasm upon theFrench lines. 

At eleven o'clock, the troops from Point Levi put off in their boats, and moved across the river, as if they intended to make a landingbetween Beauport and the city. For some hours, Montcalm remainedignorant as to the point on which the English attack was to be made, but became presently convinced that it would be delivered near theMontmorenci, and he massed the whole of his army on that flank of hisposition. 

At half-past five o'clock the tide was low, and the English boatsdashed forward, and the troops sprang ashore on to the broad tract ofmud, left bare by the tide; while, at the same moment, a column 2000strong moved down from the height towards the ford at the mouth of theMontmorenci. The first to land were thirteen companies of Grenadiers, and a detachment of Royal Americans, who, without waiting for the tworegiments of Monckton's brigade, dashed forward against the redoubt atthe foot of the hill. The French at once abandoned it, but theGrenadiers had no sooner poured into it, than a storm of bullets raineddown upon them, from the troops who lined the heights above. 

Without a moment's hesitation, the Grenadiers and Americans dashedforward, and strove to climb the steep ascent, swept as it was by aterrific hail of bullets and buckshot from the French and Canadians. Numbers rolled, dead or wounded, to the bottom of the hill, but theothers struggled on. 

But at this moment, the cloud, which had been threatening all day, suddenly opened, and the rain poured down in a torrent. The grassyslopes instantly became so slippery that it was absolutely impossibleto climb them, and the fire from above died away, as the wet renderedthe firelocks unserviceable. 

The Grenadiers fell back into the redoubt. Wolfe, who had now arrivedupon the spot, saw that it was absolutely impossible to carry theheights under the present conditions, and ordered the troops toretreat. Carrying off many of the wounded with them, they fell back ingood order. Those of the Grenadiers and Americans who survivedrecrossed, in their boats, to the island; the 15th Regiment rowed backto Point Levi; and the 78th Highlanders, who belonged to Monckton'sbrigade, joined the column from below the Montmorenci, and slowlyretired along the flats and across the ford. 

The loss fell entirely upon the Grenadiers and Americans, and was, inproportion to their number, enormous--four hundred and forty-three, including one colonel, eight captains, twenty-one lieutenants, andthree ensigns, being killed, wounded, or missing. The blow to theEnglish was a severe one, and even Wolfe began to despair, andmeditated leaving a portion of his troops on Isle aux Coudres andfortifying them there, and sailing home, with the rest, to prepareanother expedition in the following year. 

In the middle of August, he issued a third proclamation to theCanadians, declaring, as they had refused his offers of protection, andhad practised the most unchristian barbarity against his troops on alloccasions, he could no longer refrain, in justice to himself and hisarmy, in chastising them as they deserved. The barbarities consisted inthe frequent scalping and mutilating of sentinels, and men on outpostduty, which were perpetrated alike by the Canadians and Indians. 

Wolfe's object was twofold: first, to cause the militia to desert, andsecondly, to exhaust the colony. Accordingly the rangers, lightinfantry and Highlanders were sent out, in all directions, to waste thesettlements wherever resistance was offered. Farm houses and villageswere laid in ashes, although the churches were generally spared. Wolfe's orders were strict that women and children were to be treatedwith honour. 

"If any violence is offered to a woman, the offender shall be punishedwith death. "

These orders were obeyed, and, except in one instance, none but armedmen, in the act of resistance, were killed. 

Vaudreuil, in his despatches home, loudly denounced these barbarities;but he himself was answerable for atrocities incomparably worse, and ona far larger scale, for he had, for years, sent his savages, red andwhite, along a frontier of 600 miles, to waste, burn, and murder atwill, and these, as he was perfectly aware, spared neither age nor sex. 

Montcalm was not to be moved from his position by the sight of thesmoke of the burning villages. He would not risk the loss of allCanada, for the sake of a few hundred farm houses. 

Seeing the impossibility of a successful attack below the town, Wolfedetermined to attempt operations on a large scale above it. Accordingly, with every fair wind and tide, ships and transports ranthe gauntlet of the batteries of Quebec, and, covered by a hot firefrom Point Levi, generally succeeded, with more or less damage, ingetting above the town. A fleet of flatboats was also sent up, and 1200troops marched overland, under Brigadier Murray, to embark in them. 

To meet this danger above the town, Bougainville was sent from the campat Beaufort with 1500 men. Murray made another descent atPointe-aux-Trembles, but was repulsed with loss. He tried a second timeat another place, but a body of ambushed Canadians poured so heavy afire into the boats, that he was forced to fall back again withconsiderable loss. His third attempt was more successful, for he landedat Deschambault, and burned a large building filled with stores, andwith all the spare baggage of the officers of the French regulartroops. 

Vaudreuil now regretted having sent the French frigates up the river, and withdrawing their crews to work in the batteries. Had they beenkept just above the town, they could have overpowered the Englishvessels as they passed up. The sailors were now sent up to man theirships again; but Admiral Holmes, who had taken command of the ships ofwar above Quebec, was already too strong for them, and the sailors wererecalled to Quebec. 

Both armies were suffering. Dysentery and fever had broken out in theEnglish camp, and the number of effective men was greatly reduced. Uponthe other hand, the French were suffering from shortness of supplies. The English frigates above the town prevented food being brought downfrom Montreal in boats, and the difficulties of land carriage were verygreat. 

The Canadians deserted in great numbers, and Montcalm's force had beenweakened by the despatch of Levis, to assist in checking the advance ofAmherst. The latter had captured Ticonderoga and Crown Point. Niagarahad also been taken by the English. Amherst, however, fell back again, and Levis was able to rejoin Montcalm. 

But the greatest misfortune which befell the English was the dangerousillness of Wolfe, who, always suffering from disease, was for a timeutterly prostrate. At the end of August, however, he partiallyrecovered, and dictated a letter to his three brigadier generals, asking them to fix upon one of three plans, which he laid before them, for attacking the enemy. The first was that the army should march eightor ten miles up the Montmorenci, ford the river, and fall upon the rearof the enemy. The second was to cross the ford at the mouth of theMontmorenci, and march along the shore, until a spot was found wherethe heights could be climbed. The third was to make a general attackfrom the boats upon Beauport. 

Monckton, Townshend, and Murray met in consultation, and considered allthe plans to be hopeless; but they proposed that an attempt should bemade to land above the town, and so to place the army between Quebecand its base of supplies, thereby forcing Montcalm to fight or tosurrender. 

The attempt seemed a desperate one, but Wolfe determined to adopt it. He had not much hope of its succeeding, but should it not do so, therewas nothing for him but to sail, with his weakened army, back toEngland. He therefore determined at last to make the attempt, andimplored his physician to patch him up, so that he could, in person, take the command. 

"I know perfectly well that you cannot cure me, " he wrote; "but praymake me up, so that I may be without pain for a few days, and able todo my duty. That is all I want. "

On the 3rd of September, Wolfe took the first steps towards thecarrying out of his plans, by evacuating the camp at Montmorenci. Montcalm sent a strong force to attack him, as he was moving; butMonckton at Point Levi saw the movement, and, embarking two battalionsin boats, made a feint of landing at Beauport. Montcalm recalled histroops to repulse the threatened attack, and the English were able todraw off from Montmorenci without molestation. 

On the night of the 4th, a fleet of flatboats passed above the town, with the baggage and stores. On the 5th the infantry marched up byland, and the united force, of some 3600 men, embarked on board theships of Admiral Holmes. 

The French thought that the abandonment of Montmorenci, and theembarkation of the troops, was a sign that the English were about toabandon their enterprise, and sail for England. Nevertheless, Montcalmdid not relax his vigilance, being ever on the watch, riding from postto post, to see that all was in readiness to repel an attack. In one ofhis letters at this time, he mentioned that he had not taken off hisclothes since the 23d of June. 

He now reinforced the troops under Bougainville, above Quebec, to 3000men. He had little fear for the heights near the town, believing themto be inaccessible, and that a hundred men could stop a whole army. This he said, especially, in reference to the one spot which presentedat least a possibility of being scaled. Here Captain de Vergor, with ahundred Canadian troops, were posted. The battalion of Guienne had beenordered to encamp close at hand, and the post, which was called Anse duFoulon, was but a mile and a half distant from Quebec. Thus, althoughhoping that the English would soon depart, the French, knowing thecharacter of Wolfe, made every preparation against a last attack beforehe started. 

From the 7th to the 12th, Holmes' fleet sailed up and down the river, threatening a landing, now at one point and now at another, wearing outthe French, who were kept night and day on the qui vive, and wereexhausted by following the ships up and down, so as to be ready tooppose a landing wherever it might be made. 

James Walsham's regiment formed part of Monckton's brigade, and hiscolonel had frequently selected him to command parties who went out tothe Canadian villages, as, from the knowledge he had acquired ofirregular warfare, he could be trusted not to suffer himself to besurprised by the parties of Canadians or Indians, who were always onthe watch to cut off detachments sent out from the British camp. Therewere still ten men in the regiment who had formed part of his band onthe lakes. These were drafted into his company, and, whatever forcewent out, they always accompanied him. 

Although James had seen much, and heard more, of the terriblebarbarities perpetrated by the Canadians and their Indian allies on thefrontier, he lamented much the necessity which compelled Wolfe to orderthe destruction of Canadian villages; and when engaged on this service, whether in command of the detachment, or as a subaltern if more thanone company went out, he himself never superintended the painful work;but, with his ten men, scouted beyond the village, and kept a vigilantlookout against surprise. In this way, he had several skirmishes withthe Canadians, but the latter never succeeded in surprising any forceto which he was attached. Walsham and his scouts were often sent outwith parties from other regiments, and General Monckton was so pleasedwith his vigilance and activity, that he specially mentioned him toGeneral Wolfe, at the same time telling him of the services he hadperformed on the lakes, and the very favourable reports which had beenmade by Johnson, Monro, Lord Howe, and Abercromby, of the work done bythe corps which he had organized and commanded. 

"I wish we had a few more officers trained to this sort of warfare, "General Wolfe said. "Send him on board the Sutherland tomorrow. I havesome service which he is well fitted to carry out. "

James accordingly repaired on board the Sutherland, and was conductedto the general's cabin. 

"General Monckton has spoken to me in high terms of you, LieutenantWalsham, and he tells me that you have been several times mentioned indespatches, by the generals under whom you served; and you were withBraddock as well as with Johnson, Howe, and Abercromby, and with Monroat the siege of Fort William Henry. How is it that so young an officershould have seen so much service?"

James informed him how, having been pressed on board a man of war, hehad been discharged, in accordance with orders from home, and, hearingthat his friends were going to obtain a commission for him, in aregiment under orders for America, he had thought it best to utilizehis time by accompanying General Braddock as a volunteer, in order tolearn something of forest warfare; that, after that disastrous affair, he had served with Johnson in a similar capacity, until, on hisregiment arriving, he had been selected to drill a company of scouts, and had served with them on the lakes, until the corps was broken upwhen the regiment sailed for Canada. 

"In fact, you have seen more of this kind of warfare than any officerin the army, " General Wolfe said. "Your special services ought to havebeen recognized before. I shall have you put in orders, tomorrow, aspromoted to the rank of captain. And now, I am about to employ you upona service which, if you are successful, will give you your brevetmajority. 

"There must be some points at which those precipices can be climbed. Iwant you to find out where they are. It is a service of great danger. You will go in uniform, otherwise, if caught, you would meet with thefate of a spy; but at the same time, even in uniform you would probablymeet with but little mercy, if you fell into the hands of the Canadiansor Indians. Would you be willing to undertake such a duty?"

"I will try, sir, " James said. "Do you wish me to start tonight?"

"No, " the general replied. "You had better think the matter over, andlet me know tomorrow how you had best proceed. It is not an enterpriseto be undertaken without thinking it over in every light. You will haveto decide whether you will go alone, or take anyone with you; when andhow you will land; how you will regain the ships. You will, of course, have carte blanche in all respects. "

After James had returned on shore, he thought the matter over in everylight. He knew that the French had many sentries along the edge of theriver, for boats which, at night, went over towards that side of theriver, were always challenged and fired upon. The chance of landingundetected, therefore, seemed but slight; nor, even did he land, wouldhe be likely, at night, to discover the paths, which could be littlemore than tracks up the heights. 

Had he been able to speak Canadian French, the matter would have beeneasy enough, as he could have landed higher up the river and, dressedas a Canadian farmer, have made his way through the French lineswithout suspicion. But he knew nothing of French, and, even had hespoken the language fluently, there was sufficient difference betweenthe Canadian French and the language of the old country, for the firstCanadian who spoke to him to have detected the difference. 

Nor could he pass as an Indian; for, although he had picked up enoughof the language to converse with the redskin allies of the English onthe lakes, the first Indian who spoke to him would detect thedifference; and, indeed, it needed a far more intimate acquaintancewith the various tribes, than he possessed, for him to be able to paintand adorn himself so as to deceive the vigilant eyes of the FrenchIndians. 

Had his two followers, Nat and Jonathan, been with him, they could havepainted and dressed him so that he could have passed muster, but, intheir absence, he abandoned the idea as out of the question. Theprospect certainly did not seem hopeful. 

After long thought, it seemed to him that the only way which promisedeven a chance of success would be for him to be taken prisoner by theFrench soldiers. Once fairly within their lines, half the difficultywas over. He had learned to crawl as noiselessly as an Indian, and hedoubted not that he should be able to succeed in getting away from anyplace of confinement in which they might place him. Then he couldfollow the top of the heights, and the position of the sentries or ofany body of men encamped there would, in itself, be a guide to him asto the existence of paths to the strand below. 

The first step was the most difficult. How should he manage to gethimself taken prisoner? And this was the more difficult, as it wasabsolutely necessary that he should fall into the hands of Frenchregulars, and not of the Canadians, who would finish the matter at onceby killing and scalping him. 

The next morning, he again went off to the Sutherland. He was in highspirits, for his name had appeared in orders as captain, and asappointed assistant quartermaster general on the headquarter staff. Onentering the general's cabin, he thanked him for the promotion. 

"You have earned it over and over again, " the general said. "There areno thanks due to me. Now, have you thought out a plan?"

James briefly stated the difficulties which he perceived in the way ofany other scheme than that of getting himself taken prisoner by theFrench, and showed that that was the only plan that seemed to offereven a chance of success. 

"But you may not be able to escape, " Wolfe said. 

"I may not, " James replied, "and in that case, sir, I must of courseremain a prisoner until you take Quebec, or I am exchanged. Even thenyou would be no worse off than you are at present, for I must, ofcourse, be taken prisoner at some point where the French are in force, and where you do not mean to land. My presence there would give them noclue whatever to your real intentions, whereas, were I taken prisoneranywhere along the shore, they would naturally redouble theirvigilance, as they would guess that I was looking for some way ofascending the heights. "

"How do you propose being taken?" Wolfe asked. 

"My idea was, " James replied, "that I should land with a party near CapRouge, as if to reconnoitre the French position there. We should, ofcourse, be speedily discovered, and would then retreat to the boats. Ishould naturally be the last to go, and might well manage to be cutoff. "

"Yes, " Wolfe replied, "but you might also, and that far more easily, manage to get shot. I don't think that would do, Captain Walsham. Therisks would be twenty to one against your escaping being shot. Can youthink of no other plan?"

"The only other plan that I can think of, " James said, "might involveothers being taken prisoners. I might row in towards Cap Rouge in broaddaylight, as if to examine the landing place, and should, of course, draw their fire upon the boat. Before starting, I should fire two orthree shots into the boat close to the water line, and afterwards plugthem up with rags. Then, when their fire became heavy, I should takethe plugs out and let the boat fill. As she did so, I could shout thatI surrendered, and then we could drift till we neared the shore in thewater-logged boat, or swim ashore. I can swim well myself, and should, of course, want four men, who could swim well also, picked out as thecrew. "

"The plan is a dangerous one, " Wolfe said, "but less so than theother. "

"One cannot win a battle without risking life, sir, " James saidquietly. "Some of us might, of course, be hit, but as we risk our liveswhenever we get within range of the enemy, I do not see that that needbe considered; at any rate, sir, I am ready to make the attempt, if theplan has your approval. "

"I tell you frankly, Captain Walsham, that I think your chances ofsuccess are absolutely nil. At the same time, there is just a faintpossibility that you may get ashore alive, escape from the French, discover a pathway, and bring me the news; and, as the only chance ofthe expedition being successful now depends upon our discovering such apath, I am not justified in refusing even this faint chance. "

The general touched a bell which stood on the table before him. 

"Will you ask the captain to come here, " he said to the officer whoanswered the summons. 

"Captain Peters, " he said when the captain appeared, "I want you topick out for me four men, upon whom you can thoroughly rely. In thefirst place they must be good swimmers, in the second place they mustbe able to hold their tongues, and lastly they must be prepared to passsome months in a French prison. A midshipman, with the samequalifications, will be required to go with them. "

The captain naturally looked surprised at so unusual a request. 

"Captain Walsham is going to be taken prisoner by the French, " GeneralWolfe explained, "and the only way it can be done is for a whole boat'screw to be taken with him, " and he then detailed the plan which hadbeen arranged. "Of course, you can offer the men any reward you maythink fit, and can promise the midshipman early promotion, " heconcluded. 

"Very well, general. I have no doubt I can find four men and amidshipman willing to volunteer for the affair, especially as, if yousucceed, their imprisonment will be a short one. When will the attemptbe made?"

"If you can drift up the river as far as Cap Rouge before daylight, "James said, in answer to an inquiring look from the general, "we willattempt it tomorrow morning. I should say that the best plan would befor me to appear opposite their camp when day breaks, as if I wastrying to obtain a close view of it in the early morning. "

"The sooner the better, " General Wolfe said. "Every day is ofimportance. But how do you propose to get back again, that is, supposing that everything goes well?"

"I propose, general, that I should conceal myself somewhere on the faceof the heights. I will spread a handkerchief against a rock or tree, sothat it will not be seen either from above or below, but will bevisible from the ships in the river. I cannot say, of course, whetherit will be near Cap Rouge or Quebec; but, if you will have a sharplookout kept through a glass, as the ships drift up and down, you aresure to see it, and can let me know that you do so by dipping theensign. At night I will make my way down to the shore, and if, atmidnight exactly, you will send a boat for me, I shall be ready to swimoff to her, when they show a lantern as they approach the shore. Ofcourse, I cannot say on what day I may be in a position to show thesignal, but at, any rate, if a week passes without your seeing it, youwill know that I have failed to make my escape, or that I have beenkilled after getting out. "

Chapter 19: A Dangerous Expedition. 

The details of the proposed expedition being thus arranged, the captainleft the cabin with James, and the latter paced to and fro on thequarterdeck, while the captain sent for the boatswain and directed himto pick out four men who could swim well, and who were ready tovolunteer for desperate service. 

While the captain was so engaged, James saw a naval officer staringfixedly at him. He recognized him instantly, though more than fouryears had elapsed since he had last seen him. He at once stepped acrossthe quarterdeck. 

"How are you, Lieutenant Horton? It is a long time since we last partedon the Potomac. "

Horton would have refused the proffered hand, but he had alreadyinjured himself very sorely, in the eyes of the squire, by his outburstof ill feeling against James, so he shook hands and said coldly:

"Yes, your position has changed since then. "

"Yes, " James said with a laugh, "but that was only a temporary eclipse. That two months before the mast was a sort of interlude for which I amdeeply thankful. Had it not been for my getting into that smugglingscrape, I should have been, at the present moment, commencing practiceas a doctor, instead of being a captain in his majesty's service. "

The words were not calculated to improve Horton's temper. What amistake he had made! Had he interfered on James Walsham's behalf--and aword from him, saying that James was the son of a medical man, and wasassuredly mixed up in this smuggling affair only by accident--he wouldhave been released. He had not spoken that word, and the consequencewas, he had himself fallen into bad odour with the squire, and JamesWalsham, instead of drudging away as a country practitioner, was anofficer of rank equal to himself, for he, as second lieutenant in theSutherland, ranked with a captain in the army. 

Not only this, but whenever he went to Sidmouth he had heard how Jameshad been mentioned in the despatches, and how much he wasdistinguishing himself. Everything seemed to combine against him. Hehad hated James Walsham from the day when the latter had thrashed him, and had acted as Aggie's champion against him. He had hated him more, when he found Aggie installed as the squire's heiress, and saw how highJames stood in her good graces, and that he had been taken up by thesquire. 

He had hoped that he had gained the advantage over him, when he hadcome back a naval officer, while James was still a schoolboy, and hadkept aloof from the house while he devoted himself to the youngheiress. Everything had seemed going on well with his plans, until thevery circumstance which, at the time, seemed so opportune, namely, thepressing James as a seaman on board the Thetis, had turned out sodisastrous. The letter, in which he had suffered his exultation toappear, had angered the squire, had set Mrs. Walsham and her friend theex-sergeant against him, and had deeply offended Aggie. It had, too, enabled the squire to take instant measures for procuring James'sdischarge, and had now placed the latter in a position equal to hisown. 

James, on his part, did not like Richard Horton, but he felt no activeanimosity against him. He had got the best of it in that first quarrelof theirs, and, although he had certainly felt very sore and angry, atthe time Richard was staying at the Hall, and seemed to have taken hisplace altogether as Aggie's friend, this feeling had long since diedaway, for he knew, from the letters of Mr. Wilks, that Aggie had noliking whatever for Richard Horton. 

"You were at Sidmouth in the spring, I heard, " he said. "You found mymother looking well, I hope?"

"Yes, I was there a fortnight before we sailed, " Richard said. "I thinkshe was looking about as usual. "

For a few minutes, they talked in a stiff and somewhat constrainedtone, for Richard could not bring himself to speak cordially to thisman, whom he regarded as a dangerous rival. Presently, the captain cameup to them. 

"I have picked four volunteers for your work, Captain Walsham. Theywere somewhat surprised, at first, to find that they were required fora bout in a French prison; but sailors are always ready for anyhare-brained adventure, and they made no objection whatever, when Iexplained what they would have to do. Next to fighting a Frenchman, there's nothing a sailor likes so much as taking him in. YoungMiddleton goes in command of the boat. He is a regular young pickle, and is as pleased at the prospect as if a French prison were the mostamusing place in the world. He knows, of course, that there will besome considerable danger of his being shot before he is taken prisoner;but I need hardly say that the danger adds to the interest of thescheme. It's a risky business you have undertaken, Captain Walsham, terribly risky; but, if you succeed, you will have saved the expeditionfrom turning out a failure, and we shall all be under obligations toyou for the rest of our lives. 

"Has Captain Walsham told you what he is undertaking, Mr. Horton?"

"No, sir. "

"He is going to get taken prisoner, in the gig, in order that he may, if possible, give the French the slip again, find out some way downthat line of cliffs, and so enable the general to get into the heart ofthe French expedition. It is a grand scheme, but a risky one. 

"The chances are a hundred to one against you, Captain Walsham. "

"That is just what the general said, " James replied, with a smile. "Idon't think, myself, they are more than five to one against me; but, even if they were a thousand, it would be worth trying, for a thousandlives would be cheaply sacrificed to ensure the success of thisexpedition. "

"There are not many men who would like to try it, " the captain said. "Isay honestly I shouldn't, myself. Anything in the nature of duty, whether it's laying your ship alongside a Frenchman of twice her weightof metal, or a boat expedition to cut out a frigate from under the gunsof the battery, I should be ready to take my share in; but anexpedition like yours, to be carried out alone, in cold blood and inthe dark, I should have no stomach for. I don't want to discourage you, and I honour your courage in undertaking it; but I am heartily gladthat the general did not propose to me, instead of to you, to undertakeit. "

"You would have done it if he had, sir, " James said, smiling, "and sowould any officer of this expedition. I consider myself most highlyhonoured in the general entrusting me with the mission. Besides, youmust remember that it is not so strange, to me, as it would be to mostmen. I have been for four years engaged in forest warfare, scouting atnight in the woods, and keeping my ears open to the slightest soundwhich might tell of a skulking redskin being at hand. My eyes havebecome so accustomed to darkness, that, although still very far shortof those of the Indians, I can see plainly where one unaccustomed tosuch work would see nothing. I am accustomed to rely upon my ownsenses, to step noiselessly, or to crawl along on the ground like anIndian. Therefore, you see, to me this enterprise does not presentitself in the same light as it naturally would to you. "

"You may make light of it, " the captain said, "but it's a dangerousbusiness, look at it as you will. Well, if you go through it safely, Captain Walsham, you will be the hero of this campaign. "

Late in the afternoon the tide turned, and the vessels began to driftup the river. The four sailors had, of course, mentioned to theircomrades the service upon which they were about to be engaged. Thecaptain had not thought it necessary to enjoin secrecy upon them, forthere was no communication with the shore, no fear of the knowledgespreading beyond the ship; besides, the boat had to be damaged, andthis alone would tell the sailors, when she was lowered in the water, that she was intended to be captured. 

A marine was called up to where the captain's gig was hanging from thedavits. James pointed out a spot just below the waterline, and the man, standing a yard or two away, fired at it, the ball making a holethrough both sides of the boat. Another shot was fired two or threeinches higher, and the four holes were then plugged up with oakum. 

All was now in readiness for the attempt. James dined with CaptainPeters, the first lieutenant and four officers of the general's staffbeing also present, General Wolfe himself being too ill to be at table, and Admiral Holmes having, early in the morning, gone down the river toconfer with Admiral Saunders. 

"I drink good health and a safe return to you, Captain Walsham, for oursake as well as yours. As a general thing, when an officer is chosenfor dangerous service, he is an object of envy by all his comrades;but, for once, I do not think anyone on board would care to undertakeyour mission. "

"Why, sir, your little midshipman is delighted at going with me. He andI have been chatting the matter over, and he is in the highest glee. "

"Ah! He has only got the first chance of being shot at, " Captain Peterssaid. "That comes in the line of duty, and I hope there isn't anofficer on board a ship but would volunteer, at once, for that service. But your real danger only begins when his ends. 

"By the way, " he asked, as, after dinner was over, he was walking upand down the quarterdeck, talking to James, "have you and LieutenantHorton met before? I thought you seemed to know each other when I cameup, but, since then I have noticed that, while all the other officersof the ship have been chatting with you, he has kept aloof. "

"We knew each other at home, sir, " James said, "but we were never verygood friends. Our acquaintanceship commenced, when we were boys, with afight. I got the best of it, and Horton has never, I think, quiteforgiven me. "

"I don't like the young fellow, " Captain Peters said shortly. "I knowhe was not popular in the Thetis, and they say he showed the whitefeather out in the East. I wouldn't have had him on board, but thefirst lord asked me, as a personal favour, to take him. I have had noreason to complain of him, since he joined, but I know that he is nomore popular, among my other officers, than he was in the Thetis. "

"I never heard a word against him, sir, " James said earnestly. "Hisuncle, Mr. Linthorne, has large estates near Sidmouth, and has been thekindest friend to me and mine. At one time, it was thought that Hortonwould be his heir, but a granddaughter, who had for years been missing, was found; but still Horton will take, I should think, a considerableslice of the property, and it would grieve the squire, terribly, ifHorton failed in his career. I think it's only a fault of manners, sir, if I may say so, and certainly I myself know nothing whatever againsthim. "

"I don't know, " Captain Peters replied thoughtfully. "Just before Isailed, I happened to meet an old friend, and over our dinner Imentioned the names of my officers. He told me he knew this Mr. Linthorne well, and that Horton had gone to sea with him for the firsttime as a midshipman, and that there was certainly something queerabout him as a boy, for Linthorne had specially asked him to keep hiseye upon him, and had begged him, frankly, to let him know how heconducted himself. That rather set me against him, you know. "

"I don't think that was anything, " James urged. "I do not much likeHorton, but I should not like you to have a false impression of him. Itwas a mere boyish affair, sir--in fact, it was connected with thatfight with me. I don't think he gave a very strictly accurate accountof it, and his uncle, who in some matters is very strict, although oneof the kindest of men, took the thing up, and sent him away to sea. Horton was certainly punished severely enough, for that stupidbusiness, without its counting against him afterwards. "

"I like the way you speak up in his defence, Captain Walsham, especially as you frankly say you don't like him, and henceforth I willdismiss the affair from my mind, but I should say that he has neverforgiven it, although you may have done so. "

"That's natural enough, " James laughed, "because I came best out ofit. "

To Richard Horton, the news that James Walsham was about to undertake adesperate enterprise, which, if he succeeded in it, would bring himgreat honour and credit, was bitter in the extreme, and the admirationexpressed by the other officers, at his courage in undertaking it, added to his anger and disgust. He walked moodily up and down thequarterdeck all the afternoon, to think the matter over, and at eachmoment his fury increased. Could he in any way have put a stop to theadventure, he would instantly have done so, but there was no possibleway of interfering. 

The thought that annoyed him most was of the enthusiasm with which thenews of the successful termination of the enterprise would be receivedat Sidmouth. Already, as he knew, Aggie regarded James as a hero, andthe squire was almost as proud of his mention in despatches as if hehad been his own son; but for this he cared but little. It was Aggie'sgood opinion Richard Horton desired to gain. James Walsham stillthought of her as the girl of twelve he had last seen, but RichardHorton knew her as almost a woman, and, although at first he hadresolved to marry her as his uncle's heiress, he now really cared forher for herself. 

On the visit before James had left home, Richard had felt certain thathis cousin liked him; but, since that time, he had not only made noprogress, but he felt that he had lost rather than gained ground. Thegirl was always friendly with him, but it was the cool friendliness ofa cousin, and, somehow, Richard instinctively felt James Walsham wasthe cause. 

In vain he had angrily told himself that it was absurd to suppose thathis cousin could care for this fellow, whom she had only seen as anawkward boy, who had been content to stop away from the house, andnever go near her for weeks. Still, though he told himself it wasabsurd, he knew that it was so. When the conversation happened to turnupon James, she seldom took any part in it; but Richard knew that itwas not from indifference as to the subject. There was a soft flush onher cheek, a light in her eyes, which he had never been able to callup; and, many a time, he had ground his teeth in silent rage, when thesquire and Mr. Wilks were discussing the news received in James's lastletter, and expressing their hopes that, ere long, he would be backfrom foreign service. 

Although by no means fond of encountering danger, Richard felt that hewould gladly pick an open quarrel with the man he regarded as hisrival, and shoot him like a dog--for in those days, duels were mattersof everyday occurrence--but there was no possibility of doing this, atthe present juncture; and, moreover, he knew that this would be theworst possible way of ridding himself of him; for, were James to fallby his hands, his chances of winning Aggie would be hopelesslyextinguished. 

"No, " he said to himself, "that is out of the question; but I will dosomething. Come what may, he shall never go back to Sidmouth. "

The squadron drifted up beyond Cap Rouge, and anchored, at the top ofthe flood, an hour before daybreak. The gig was lowered, and JamesWalsham, amid many good wishes and hearty farewells from the officers, took his place in her, by the side of the midshipman. 

"Look out for my signal, " he said. "Any time, after today, you may seeit. "

"We will see it if you make it, my boy, " said the captain, who had comeon deck to see him off. "Don't you fear about that. If you make yoursignal, you may rely upon it, our boat will be ashore for you thatnight. "

Another moment, and the boat pulled away from the side of the ship. 

"Take it easy, lads, " young Middleton said, "only just dip your oars inthe water. We have but three miles to row, with the stream, and don'twant to be there till the day begins to show. "

The oars had been muffled, and, noiselessly, the boat dropped down thestream, until she neared Cap Rouge, then they rowed in towards theFrench shore. The day was just beginning to break, in the east, as theyneared the spot where the French camp was situated. It stood high up onthe plateau; but there were a small number of tents on the low ground, by the river, as some batteries had been erected here. They were buttwo hundred yards from the shore when a French sentry challenged. Theygave no answer, and the soldier at once fired. 

"Keep about this distance out, " James ordered. "Row quietly. I willstand up, as if I were watching the shore. "

As soon as the shot was fired, it was answered by shots from othersentries. A minute later, a drum was heard to beat sharply, and then, in the faint light, a number of French soldiers could be seen, runningat full speed towards the shore. The shots fell thickly round the boat, and one of the men dropped his oar, as a bullet struck him on theshoulder. 

"Pull out the plugs, " James said. 

The oakum was pulled out and thrown overboard, and the water rushed in. 

"Now turn her head from the shore, as if we were trying to escape. "

So rapidly did the water rush in through the four holes that, in aminute, the gunwale was nearly level with the water. 

"Turn her over now, " James said, and in a moment the boat was upset, and the men clinging to the bottom. 

A shout of exultation rose from the shore, as the boat was seen toupset, and the firing at once ceased. 

"Swim towards the shore, and push the boat before you, " the youngmidshipman said. "They won't fire any more now, and we have finishedthe first part of our business. "

Pushing the boat before them, the men made their way slowly towards theshore, striking the land half a mile below the point where they hadoverturned. The French soldiers had followed them down the bank, andsurrounded them as they landed. The holes in the boat explained forthemselves the cause of the disaster. 

An officer stepped forward. 

"You are our prisoners, " he said to James. 

The latter bowed. 

"It is the fortune of war, " he said. "Your men are better shots than Igave them credit for, " and he pointed to the holes in the boat. 

He spoke in English, but the officer guessed his meaning. 

Some of the Indians and Canadians soon came flocking down, and, withangry gestures, demanded that the prisoners should be shot; but theFrench officer waived them off, and placed a strong guard of his ownmen around them, to prevent their being touched by the Indians. Theyoung midshipman spoke French fluently, having been specially selectedby the captain for that reason; but it had been agreed, between him andJames, that he should not betray his knowledge of the language, as hemight, thereby, pick up information which might be useful. 

They were at once conducted before Bougainville. 

"Do you speak French?" he asked. 

James shook his head. The midshipman looked as if he had not understoodthe question. 

"It is clear, " the French officer said to those standing around him, "that they came in to reconnoitre the landing place, and thought, inthe dim light, they could run the gauntlet of our sentries' fire. Itwas more accurate than they gave them credit for. "

"The boat was struck twice, you say?"

"Yes, general, " the officer who conducted them into the tent replied. "Two balls right through her, and one of the men was hit on theshoulder. "

"The reconnaissance looks as if Wolfe meant to attempt a landing here, "Bougainville said. "We must keep a sharp lookout. I will send them onto Quebec, for the general to question them. He will find someone therewho speaks their language. I will send, at once, to tell him we havecaptured them. But I can't very well do so, till we have a convoygoing, with regulars to guard it. If they were to go in charge ofCanadians, the chances of their arriving alive in Quebec would beslight. 

"Let the sailors be placed in a tent in your lines, Chateaudun, andplace a sentry over them, to see that the Indians don't get at them. The two officers can have the tent that Le Boeuf gave up yesterday. Youcan put a sentry there, but they can go in and out as they like. Thereis no fear of their trying to escape; for, if they once went outsidethe lines of the regulars, the Indians and Canadians would make shortwork of them. "

The officer led James and the midshipman to a tent in the staff lines, whose owner had ridden to Quebec, on the previous night, withdespatches, and motioned to them that it was to be theirs. He also madesigns to them that they could move about as they chose; butsignificantly warned them, by a gesture, that if they ventured beyondthe tents, the Indians would make short work of them. 

For a time, the prisoners made no attempt to leave the tent, for theIndians stood scowling at a short distance off, and would have entered, had not the sentry on duty prevented them from doing so. 

"Do not talk too loudly, " James said. "It is probable that, in a camplike this, there is someone who understands English. Very likely theyare playing the same game with us that we are with them. They pretendthere is no one who can speak to us; but, very likely, there may besomeone standing outside now, trying to listen to what we say. "

Then, raising his voice he went on:

"What abominable luck I have! Who could have reckoned upon the boatbeing hit, twice, at that distance? I thought we had fairly succeeded. The general will be in a nice way, when he finds we don't come back. "

"Yes, " Middleton rejoined, "and to think that we are likely to spendthe winter in prison, at Quebec, instead of Old England. I am halfinclined to try and escape!"

"Nonsense!" James replied. "It would be madness to think of such athing. These Indians can see in the dark, and the moment you put yourfoot outside the lines of these French regulars, you would be carriedoff and scalped. No, no, my boy; that would be simply throwing away ourlives. There is nothing for it, but to wait quietly, till either Wolfetakes Quebec, or you are exchanged. "

The prisoners were treated with courtesy by the French officers, andcomfortable meals were provided. In the evening, they went outside thetent for a short time, but did not venture to go far, for Indians werestill moving about, and the hostile glances, which they threw at theprisoners, were sufficient to indicate what would happen to the latter, if they were caught beyond the protection of the sentry. 

"Bougainville was right in supposing that prisoners would not be likelyto attempt to escape, " James said, in a low voice. "The look of thoseIndians would be quite sufficient to prevent anyone from attempting it, under ordinary circumstances. It is well that my business will take medown the river towards Quebec, while they will make sure that I shallhave made up the river, with a view of making my way off to the ships, the next time they go up above Cap Rouge. "

"It will be risky work getting through them, " the midshipman remarked;"but all the same, I wish I was going with you, instead of having tostick here in prison. "

"It would be running too great a risk of spoiling my chance ofsuccess, " James said. "I am accustomed to the redskins, and can crawlthrough them as noiselessly as they could themselves. Besides, one canhide where two could not. I only hope that, when they find I have gone, they won't take it into their heads to revenge my escape upon you. "

"There is no fear of that, " the midshipman said. "I shall be soundasleep in the tent, and when they wake me up, and find you are gone, Ishall make a tremendous fuss, and pretend to be most indignant that youhave deserted me. "

The two prisoners had eaten but little of the meals served to them thatday, putting the greater portion aside, and hiding it in the strawwhich served for their beds, in order that James might take with him asupply, for it might be three or four days before he could be taken offby the ships' boats. 

"I suppose you won't go very far tonight?" the midshipman said, suddenly. 

"No, " James replied. "I shall hide somewhere along the face of thecliff, a mile or so away. They are not likely to look for me down theriver at all; but, if they do, they will think I have gone as far as Ican away, and the nearer I am to this place, the safer. "

"Look here, " the midshipman said. "I am going strictly to obey orders;but, at the same time, it is just possible that something may turn upthat you ought to know, or that might make me want to bolt. Suppose, for instance, I heard them say that they meant to shoot us both in themorning--it's not likely, you know; still, it's always as well to beprepared for whatever might happen--if so, I should crawl out of camp, and make my way along after you. And if so, I shall walk along theedge, and sometimes give two little whistles like this; and, if youhear me, you answer me. "

"Don't be foolish, Middleton, " James said seriously. "You would onlyrisk your life, and mine, by any nonsense of that sort. There can't beany possible reason why you should want to go away. You have undertakento carry this out, knowing that you would have, perhaps, to remain aprisoner for some time; and having undertaken it, you must keep to theplans laid down. "

"But I am going to, Captain Walsham. Still, you know, something mightturn up. "

"I don't see that anything possibly could turn up, " James insisted;"but, if at any future time you do think of any mad-brained attempt ofescaping, you must take off your shoes, and you must put your footdown, each time, as gently as if the ground were covered with nails;for, if you were to tread upon a twig, and there were an Indian withinhalf a mile of you, he would hear it crack. But don't you attempt anysuch folly. No good could possibly come of it, and you would be sure tofall into the hands of the savages or Canadians; and you know how theytreat prisoners. "

"I know, " the boy said; "and I have no wish to have my scalp hanging upin any of their wigwams. "

It was midnight, before the camp was perfectly still, and then JamesWalsham quietly loosened one of the pegs of the canvas, at the back ofthe tent, and, with a warm grasp of the midshipman's hand, crawled out. The lad listened attentively, but he could not hear the slightestsound. The sentinel was striding up and down in front of the tent, humming the air of a French song as he walked. Half an hour passedwithout the slightest stir, and the midshipman was sure that James was, by this time, safely beyond the enemy's camp. 

He was just about to compose himself to sleep, when he heard atrampling of feet. The sentry challenged, the password was given, andthe party passed on towards the general's tent. It was some thirtyyards distant, and the sentry posted there challenged. 

"I wonder what's up?" the midshipman said to himself; and, lifting thecanvas, he put his head out where James had crawled through. 

The men had halted before the general's tent, and the boy heard thegeneral's voice, from inside the tent, ask sharply, "What is it?"

"I regret to disturb you, Monsieur le General; but we have here one ofthe Canadian pilots, who has swam ashore from the enemy's fleet higherup the river, and who has important news for you. "

The midshipman at once determined to hear what passed. He had alreadytaken off his shoes; and he now crawled out from the tent, and, movingwith extreme caution, made his way round to the back of the general'stent, just as the latter, having thrown on his coat and lighted acandle, unfastened the entrance. The midshipman, determined to see aswell as hear what was going on, lifted up the flap a few inches behind, and, as he lay on the ground, peered in. A French officer had justentered, and he was followed by a Canadian, whom the midshipmanrecognized at once, as being the one who piloted the Sutherland up anddown the river. 

"Where do you come from?" Bougainville asked. 

"I swam ashore two hours ago from the English ship Sutherland, " theCanadian said. 

"How did you manage to escape?"

"I would have swam ashore long ago, but at night I have always beenlocked up, ever since I was captured, in a cabin below. Tonight thedoor opened quietly, and someone came in and said:

"'Hush!--can you swim?'

"'Like a fish, ' I said. 

"'Are you ready to try and escape, if I give you the chance?'

"'I should think so, ' I replied. 

"'Then follow me, but don't make the slightest noise. '

"I followed him. We passed along the main deck, where the sailors wereall asleep in their hammocks. A lantern was burning here, and I saw, byits light, that my conductor was an officer. He led me along till weentered a cabin--his own, I suppose. 

"'Look, ' he whispered, 'there is a rope from the porthole down to thewater. If you slide quietly down by it, and then let yourself drifttill you are well astern of the ship, the sentry on the quarterdeckwill not see you. Here is a letter, put it in your cap. If you arefired at, and a boat is lowered to catch you, throw the paper away atonce. Will you swear to do that?'

"I said I would swear by the Virgin. 

"'Very well, ' he went on; 'if you get away safely and swim to shore, make your way without a minute's delay to the French camp at Cap Rouge, and give this letter to the general. It is a matter of the most extremeimportance. '

"This is the letter, general. "

He handed a small piece of paper, tightly folded up, to Bougainville, who opened it, and read it by the light of the candle. 

He gave a sharp exclamation. 

"Quick!" he exclaimed. "Come along to the tent of the prisoners. I amwarned that the capture was a ruse, and that the military officer is aspy, whose object here is to discover a landing place. He is to escapethe first opportunity. "

The three men at once ran out from the tent. The instant they did so, the midshipman crawled in under the flap, rushed to the table on whichthe general had thrown the piece of paper, seized it, and then dartedout again, and stole quietly away in the darkness. He had not gonetwenty yards, when a volley of angry exclamations told him that theFrench general had discovered that the tent was empty. 

The night was a dark one, and to prevent himself from falling over tentropes, the midshipman threw himself down and crawled along on his handsand knees, but he paused, before he had gone many yards, and listenedintently. The general was returning to his tent. 

"It is no use doing anything tonight, " he said. "Even an Indian couldnot follow the track of a waggon. At daybreak, Major Dorsay, let theredskins know that the prisoners have escaped, and offer a reward offifty crowns for their recapture, dead or alive--I care not which. Letthis good fellow turn in at the guard tent. I will talk to him in themorning. Good night!"

The midshipman kept his eyes anxiously on the dim light that could befaintly seen through the tent. If the general missed the paper, hemight guess that it had been taken by the fugitives, and might order aninstant search of the camp. He gave a sigh of relief, when he saw thelight disappear the moment the French officer had entered the tent, andthen crawled away through the camp. 

Chapter 20: The Path Down The Heights. 

As the midshipman crawled away from the tent of the French general, headopted the precautions which James had suggested, and felt the groundcarefully for twigs or sticks each time he moved. The still-glowingembers of the campfires warned him where the Indians and Canadians weresleeping, and, carefully avoiding these, he made his way up beyond thelimits of the camp. There were no sentries posted here, for the Frenchwere perfectly safe from attack from that quarter, and, once fairlybeyond the camp, the midshipman rose to his feet, and made his way tothe edge of the slopes above the Saint Lawrence. He walked for about amile, and then paused, on the very edge of the sharp declivity, andwhistled as agreed upon. 

A hundred yards further, he repeated the signal. The fourth time hewhistled he heard, just below him, the answer, and a minute later JamesWalsham stood beside him. 

"You young scamp, what are you doing here?"

"It was not my fault, Captain Walsham, it wasn't indeed; but I shouldhave been tomahawked if I had stayed there a moment longer. "

"What do you mean by 'you would have been tomahawked, '" James askedangrily, for he was convinced that the midshipman had made up his mind, all along, to accompany him. 

"The pilot of the Sutherland swam ashore, with the news that you hadbeen taken prisoner on purpose, and were really a spy. "

"But how on earth did he know that?" James asked. "I took care the manwas not on deck, when we made the holes in the boat, and he does notunderstand a word of English, so he could not have overheard what themen said. "

"I am sorry to say, sir, that it is a case of treachery, and that oneof our officers is concerned in it. The man said that an officerreleased him from his cell, and took him to his cabin, and then loweredhim by a rope through the porthole. "

"Impossible!" James Walsham said. 

"It sounds impossible, sir; but I am afraid it isn't, for the officergave him a note to bring to the general, telling him all about it, andthat note I have got in my pocket now. "

The midshipman then related the whole circumstances of his discovery. 

"It is an extraordinary affair, " James said. "However, you arecertainly not to blame for making your escape when you did. You couldnot have got back into your tent till too late; and, even could youhave done so, it might have gone hard with you, for of course theywould have known that you were, what they would call an accomplice, inthe affair. "

"I will go on if you like, sir, " the boy said, "and hide somewhereelse, so that if they track me they will not find you. "

"No, no, " James said, "I don't think there's any fear of our beingtracked. Indian eyes are sharp; but they can't perform miracles. In theforest it would be hopeless to escape them, but here the grass is shortand the ground dry, and, without boots, we cannot have left any tracksthat would be followed, especially as bodies of French troops have beenmarching backwards and forwards along the edge of these heights for thelast fortnight. I won't say that it is impossible that they can findus, but it will not be by our tracks. 

"Now, come down to this bush where I was lying. We will wait there tilldaylight breaks. It is as far down as I dare go by this light, but, when we can see, we will find a safer place further down. "

Cautiously they made their way down to a clump of bushes, twenty feetbelow the edge, and there, lying down, dozed until it became lightenough to see the ground. The slope was very steep, but bushes grewhere and there upon it, and by means of these, and projecting rocks, they worked their way down some thirty feet lower, and then sat downamong some bushes, which screened them from the sight of anyone whomight be passing along the edge of the river, while the steep slopeeffectually hid them from anyone moving along above. 

"Is there any signature to that letter, " James asked presently. 

The midshipman took the piece of paper out and looked at it. 

"No, there is no signature, " he said; "but I know the handwriting. Ihave seen it in orders, over and over again. "

James was silent a few minutes. 

"I won't ask you who it is, though I fear I know too well. Look here, Middleton, I should like you to tear that letter up, and say no moreabout it. "

"No, sir, " the boy said, putting the paper in his pocket. "I can't dothat. Of course I am under your orders, for this expedition; but thisis not an affair in which I consider that I am bound to obey you. Thisconcerns the honour of the officers of my ship, and I should not bedoing my duty if I did not, upon my return, place this letter in thehands of the captain. A man who would betray the general's plans to theenemy, would betray the ship, and I should be a traitor, myself, if Idid not inform the captain. I am sorry, awfully sorry, that this shouldhappen to an officer of the Sutherland, but it will be for the captainto decide whether he will make it public or not. 

"There is one thing. If it was to be anyone, I would rather that it washe than anyone else, for there isn't a man on board can abide him. No, sir, I am sorry, but I cannot give up the letter, and, even if you hadtorn it up when you had it in your hand just now, I should havereported the whole thing to the captain, and say I could swear to thehandwriting. "

James was silent. The boy was right, and was only doing his duty indetermining to denounce the act of gross treachery which had beenperpetrated. He was deeply grieved, however, to think of theconsequences of the discovery, and especially of the blow that it wouldbe, to the squire, to hear that his nephew was a traitor, and indeed amurderer at heart, for, had not his flight taken place before thediscovery was made, he would certainly have been executed as a spy. 

The day passed quietly. That the Indians were searching for him, farand wide, James Walsham had no doubt, and indeed, from their hidingplace he saw several parties of redskins moving along on the riverbank, carefully examining the ground. 

"It's lucky we didn't move along there, " he said to his companion, "forthe ground is so soft that they would assuredly have found our tracks. I expect that they think it possible that we may have been taken off, in a boat, during the night. "

"I hope they will keep on thinking so, " the midshipman said. "Then theywill give up looking for us. "

"They won't do that, " James replied; "for they will be sure that theymust have seen our tracks, had we passed along that muddy bank. Fortunately, they have no clue to where we really are. We might havegone east, west, or north, and the country is so covered with bush thatanything like a regular search is absolutely impossible. "

"I hope we ain't going to be very long, before we get on board again, "the midshipman said, as he munched the small piece of bread Jamesserved out to him for his dinner. "The grub won't last more than twodays, even at this starvation rate, and that one bottle of water is amockery. I could finish it all, straight off. Why, we shall be as badlyoff as if we were adrift at sea, in a boat. "

"Not quite so bad, " James replied. "We can chew the leaves of some ofthese bushes; besides, people don't die of hunger or thirst in fourdays, and I hope, before that, to be safely on board. "

Not until it was perfectly dark did they leave their hiding place, and, by the aid of the bushes, worked their way up to the top of the ascentagain. James had impressed on his companion that, on no account, was heto speak above a whisper, that he was to stop whenever he did, and, should he turn off and descend the slope, he was at once to follow hisexample. The midshipman kept close to his companion, and marvelled howassuredly the latter walked along, for he himself could see nothing. 

Several times, James stopped and listened. Presently, he turned off tothe right, saying "hush!" in the lowest possible tone, and, proceedinga few paces down the slope, noiselessly lay down behind the bush. Themidshipman imitated his example, though he wondered why he was soacting, for he could hear nothing. Two or three minutes later he hearda low footfall, and then the sound of men speaking in a low voice, insome strange tongue. He could not see them, but held his breath as theywere passing. Not till they had been gone some minutes did James rise, and pursue his course. 

"Two Indians, " he said, "and on the search for us. One was just sayingto the other he expected, when they got back to camp, to find that someof the other parties had overtaken us. "

Another mile further, and they saw the light of several fires ahead. 

"That is a French battery, " James said. "We must make a detour, and getto the other side of it; then I will crawl back, and see if there isany path down to the river. "

The detour was made, and then, leaving the midshipman in hiding a fewpaces from the edge, James crawled back. He soon saw, by the fires, that the battery was manned by sailors from the French fleet, and hehad little fear of these discovering him. Keeping well below them, hecame presently upon a narrow path. Above him, he could hear a Frenchsentry walking. He followed the path down, with the greatest caution, stepping with the most extreme care, to avoid displacing a stone. Hefound the path was excessively steep and rugged, little more, indeed, than a sheep track. It took him half an hour to reach the bottom, andhe found that, in some places, sappers had been lately at workobliterating the path, and that it could scarcely be consideredpracticable for men hampered with their arms and ammunition. 

Another half hour's work took him to the top again, and a few minuteslater he rejoined his companion. 

"That won't do, " he said. "We must try again. There is a path, but thetroops could scarcely climb it if unopposed, and certainly could not doso without making such a noise as would attract the notice of thesentinels above. "

"That is the battery they call Sillery, " the midshipman said. "Theyhave fired at us over and over again from there, as we went up or downthe river. There is another about a mile further on. It is calledSamos. "

Upon reaching the Samos battery, James again crept up and reconnoitred. The way down, however, was even more difficult than at Sillery. Therewas, indeed, no regular path, and so steep was the descent that hedoubted whether it would be possible for armed men to climb it. Evenhe, exceptionally strong and active as he was, and unencumbered witharms, had the greatest difficulty in making his way down and up againand, indeed, could only do so by grasping the trunks of trees andstrong bushes. 

"It can't be done there, " he said to the midshipman when he joined himagain. "And now we must look for a hiding place. We must have been fiveor six hours since we started, and the nights are very short. At anyrate, we cannot attempt another exploration before morning. "

"I wish we could explore the inside of a farm house and light uponsomething to eat and drink, " the midshipman said. 

"It's no use wishing, " James replied. "We can't risk anything of thatsort and, probably, all the farm houses are full of troops. We have gota little bread left. That will hold us over tomorrow comfortably. "

"It may hold us, " Middleton said; "but it certainly won't hold mecomfortably. My idea of comfort, at the present time, would be a roundof beef and a gallon of ale. "

"Ah! You are an epicure, " James laughed. "If you had had three or fouryears of campaigning in the forest, as I have had, you would learn tocontent yourself on something a good deal less than that. "

"I might, " the boy said; "but I have my doubts about it. There's onecomfort. We shall be able to sleep all day tomorrow, and so I sha'n'tthink about it. As the Indians did not find our tracks yesterday, theyare not likely to do so today. "

They were some time before they found a hiding place, for the descentwas so steep that they had to try several times, before they could getdown far enough to reach a spot screened by bushes, and hidden from thesight of anyone passing above. At last they did so, and soon lay downto sleep, after partaking of a mouthful of water each, and a tiny pieceof bread. They passed the day for the most part in sleep, but themidshipman woke frequently, being now really parched with thirst. Eachtime, he chewed a few leaves from the bush in which they were lying, but derived but small comfort from it. 

"It's awful to think of tomorrow, " he said, as evening approached. "Even supposing you find a way down tonight, it must be midnighttomorrow before we are taken off. "

"If I find a way down, " James said, "I will, if possible, take you downwith me, and then we can take a long drink at the river; but, at anyrate, I will take the bottle down with me, and bring it up full foryou. The next place to try is the spot where we saw some tents, as wewent up the river. There is no battery there, and the tents can onlyhave been pitched there because there was some way down to the water. It cannot be more than half a mile away, for it was not more than amile from Fort Samos. "

"Can't I go with you?" the midshipman said. "I will be as quiet as acat; and, if you find it is a good path, and come up to fetch me down, you see there will be a treble risk of being seen. "

"Very well, " James agreed. "Only mind, if you set a stone rolling, orbreak a twig, it will cost us both our lives, to say nothing of thefailure of our expedition. "

"I will be as quiet as a mouse. You see if I ain't, " the midshipmansaid confidently; "and I will try not to think, even once, of the waterbelow there, so as not to hurry. "

Together they crept cautiously along the edge of the ridge, until theycame to a clump of some fifteen tents. As they approached they couldsee, by the light of the fires, that the encampment was one of Canadiantroops. 

James had not intended to move forward until all were asleep, but themen were all chatting round the fires, and it did not seem to him thata sentry had, as yet, been placed on the edge of the descent. Hetherefore crept forward at once, followed closely by the midshipman, keeping, as far as possible, down beyond the slope of the descent. 

Presently, he came to a path. He saw at once that this was verydifferent from the others--it was regularly cut, sloping gradually downthe face of the sharp descent, and was wide enough for a cart to pass. He at once took his way down it, moving with the greatest caution, lesta sentry should be posted some distance below. It was very dark, for, in many places, the trees met overhead. 

About halfway down he suddenly came to a stop, for, in front of him, rose a bank breast high. Here, if anywhere, a sentry should have beenplaced, and, holding his companion's arm, James listened intently forsome time. 

"Mind what you are doing, " he said in a whisper. "This is a breastworkand, probably, the path is cut away on the other side. Fortunately, weare so far down the hill now, that there is not much risk of theirhearing any slight noise we might make. You stand here, till I find outwhat's on the other side. "

James climbed over the breastwork, and cautiously let himself go on theother side. He fell some five or six feet. 

"Come on, " he said in a low voice. "Lower yourself down by your arms. Ican reach your legs then. "

The gap cut in the path was some ten feet across, and six feet deep. When, with some difficulty, they clambered up on the other side, theyfound the path obstructed by a number of felled trees, forming a thickabattis. They managed to climb the steep hillside, and kept along ituntil past the obstruction. Then they got on to the path again, andfound it unbroken to the bottom. 

"So far, so good, " James said. "Now, do you stop here, while I crawlforward to the water. The first thing to discover is whether they havea sentinel stationed anywhere near the bottom of this path. "

The time seemed terribly long to Middleton before James returned, though it was really but a few minutes. 

"All right!" he said, as he approached him. "There is no one here, though I can hear some sentries farther up the river. Now you can comeforward, and have a drink. Fortunately, the river is high. "

After having satisfied their thirst, Middleton asked:

"Where are you going now? I don't care how far we have got to march, for, after that drink, I feel ready for anything. "

"It won't do to hide anywhere near, " James said; "for, if the boatwhich comes to take us off were to be seen, it would put them on theirguard, and there would be plenty of sentries about here in future. No, we will keep along at the foot of the precipice till we are abouthalfway, as far as we can tell, between Samos and Sillery, and then wewill climb up, as high as we can get, and show our signal in themorning. But you must be careful as we walk, for, as I told you, thereare some sentries posted by the water's edge, higher up. "

"I will be careful, don't you fear, " the midshipman said. "There is notmuch fear of a fellow, walking about in the dark without boots, notbeing careful. I knocked my toe against a rock, just now, and it was asmuch as I could do not to halloa. I will be careful in future, I cantell you. "

An hour's walking brought them to a spot where the hill was rather lesssteep than usual. They climbed up, until they gained a spot some fiftyfeet above the level of the river, and there sat down in a clump ofbushes. 

"As soon as it's daylight, we will choose a spot where we can show asignal, without the risk of it's being seen from below, " James said. "We mustn't go to sleep, for we must move directly the dawn commences, else those sentries below might make us out. "

At daybreak they shifted their position, and gained a spot completelyhidden from below, but from which an entire view of the river could beobtained. 

"Tide will be low in a couple of hours, " the midshipman said. "Thereare the fleet below. They will come up with the first flood, so, inthree or four hours, they will be abreast of us. I hope they will makeout our signal. "

"I have no fear of that, " James replied. "They are sure to keep a sharplookout for it. "

Presently the tide grew slacker, and, half an hour later, the shipswere seen to hoist their sails, and soon began to drop slowly up theriver. When they approached, James fastened his handkerchief againstthe trunk of a tree, well open to view from the river, and then stoodwith his eyes fixed on the approaching ships. Just as the Sutherlandcame abreast of the spot where they were standing, the ensign wasdipped. James at once removed his handkerchief. 

"Now, " he said, "Middleton, you can turn in and take a sleep. At twelveo'clock tonight there will be a boat below for us. "

Two or three hours after darkness had fallen, James and his companionmade their way down the slope, and crawled out to the water's edge. There was no sentry within hearing, and they sat down, by the edge ofthe river, until suddenly a light gleamed for an instant, low down onthe water, two or three hundred yards from the shore. 

They at once stepped into the river, and, wading out for some littledistance, struck out towards where they had seen the light. A fewminutes' swimming, and they saw something dark ahead. Another fewstrokes took them alongside, and they were hauled into the boat. 

The slight noise attracted the attention of a sentry, some littledistance along the shore, and his qui vive came sharply across thewater, followed a few seconds later by the flash of his gun. 

The crew now bent to their oars, and, a quarter of an hour later, theboat was alongside the Sutherland, which, with her consorts, was slowlydrifting up the stream. General Wolfe and the admiral were on deck, andanxiously waiting the arrival of the boat. The former, in his anxiety, hailed the boat as it approached. 

"Is Captain James Walsham on board?"

"Yes, sir, " James replied. 

"Bravo, bravo!" the general cried, delighted. 

"Bravo!" he repeated, seizing James Walsham's hand as he stepped ondeck. "I did not expect to see you again, Captain Walsham, at leastuntil we took Quebec. Now, come to my cabin at once and tell me allabout it. But perhaps you are hungry. "

"I am rather hungry, general, " James said quietly. "We have had nothingto eat but a crust of bread for three days. "

"We? Who are we?" the general asked quickly. 

"Mr. Middleton and myself, sir. He escaped after I had left, and joinedme. "

"The galley fires are out, " the admiral said, "but you shall have somecold meat in my cabin, instantly. "

James was at once led to the cabin, where, in two or three minutes, food and a bottle of wine were placed before him. The general would notallow him to speak a word, till his hunger was satisfied. Then, when hesaw him lay down his knife and fork, he said:

"Now, Captain Walsham, in the first place, have you succeeded--have youfound a practicable path down to the river?"

"I have found a path, sir. It is cut in one place, and blocked withfelled trees, but the obstacles can be passed. There are someCanadians, in tents, near the top of the path, but they seem to keep avery careless watch, and no sentry is placed at the bottom, or on theedge of the river anywhere near. "

"Admirable, admirable!" Wolfe exclaimed. "At last there is a chance ofour outreaching Montcalm. And you were not seen examining the path?Nothing occurred to excite their suspicion, and lead them to keep abetter lookout in future?"

"No, sir, " James replied. "They have had no suspicion of my presenceanywhere near. The spot where I was taken off was two miles higher. Imoved away in order that, if we were seen swimming off to the boat, nosuspicion should occur that we had been reconnoitring the pathway. "

"That is right, " the general said. "Now, tell me the whole story ofwhat you have been doing, in your own way. "

James related his adventures, up to the time when he was joined by themidshipman. 

"But what made Mr. Middleton escape?" the admiral asked. "I thoughtthat his instructions were precise, that he was to permit himself to betaken prisoner, and was to remain quietly in Quebec, until we couldeither exchange him or take the place. "

"That was how he understood his instructions, sir, " James said; "but Iwould rather that you should question him, yourself, as to his reasonsfor escaping. I may say they appear to me to be perfectly valid, as anoccurrence took place upon which it was impossible for Captain Petersto calculate, when he gave them. "

James then finished the report of his proceedings, and General Wolfeexpressed his great satisfaction at the result. 

"I will put you in orders, tomorrow, for your brevet-majority, " hesaid; "and never was the rank more honourably earned. "

The admiral rang a hand bell. 

"Send Mr. Middleton to me. Where is he?"

"He is having supper in Captain Peters' cabin. "

"Ask Captain Peters if he will be good enough to come in with him. "

A minute later Captain Peters entered, followed by the midshipman. 

"I suppose, Peters, you have been asking young Middleton the reason whyhe did not carry out his instructions?"

"I have, admiral, " Captain Peters said gravely, "and I was only waitinguntil you were disengaged to report the circumstance to you. He hadbetter tell you, sir, his own way. "

Captain Peters then took a seat at the table, while the midshipmanrelated his story, in nearly the same words in which he had told it toJames. When he told of the account the Canadian pilot had given of hisescape, the admiral exclaimed:

"But it seems altogether incredible. That some one has unbolted theman's cabin from the outside seems manifest, and it is clear thateither gross treachery, or gross carelessness, enabled him to get free. I own that, although the sergeant of marines declares positively thathe fastened the bolts, I think that he could not have done so, fortreachery seems almost out of the question. That an officer should havedone this seems impossible; and yet, what the man says about the cabin, and being let out by a rope, would seem to show that it must have beenan officer. "

"I am sorry to say, sir, " Middleton said, "that the man gave proofs ofthe truth of what he was saying. The officer, he said, gave him apaper, which I heard and saw the general reading aloud. It was awarning that Captain Walsham had purposely allowed himself to becaptured, and that he was, in fact, a spy. The French officer, in hishaste, laid down the paper on the table when he rushed out, and I hadjust time to creep under the canvas, seize it, and make off with it. Here it is, sir. I have showed it to Captain Peters. "

The admiral took the paper and read it, and handed it, without a word, to General Wolfe. 

"That is proof conclusive, " he said. "Peters, do you know thehandwriting?"

"Yes, " Captain Peters said gravely. "I recognized it at once, as didMr. Middleton. It is the handwriting of Lieutenant Horton. "

"But what on earth could be the motive of this unhappy young man?" theadmiral asked. 

"I imagine, sir, from what I saw on the evening before Captain Walshamset out, and, indeed, from what Captain Walsham said when I questionedhim, that it was a case of private enmity against Captain Walsham. "

"Is this so, Captain Walsham?" General Wolfe asked. 

"I have no enmity against him, sir, " James said, "though I own that hismanner impressed me with the idea that he regarded me as an enemy. Thefact is, we lived near each other as boys, and we had a fight. I gotthe best of it. He gave an account of the affair, which was not exactlycorrect, to his uncle, Mr. Linthorne, a wealthy landowner and amagistrate. The latter had me up at the justice room; but I broughtforward witnesses, who gave their account of the affair. Mr. Linthorneconsidered that his nephew--whom he had at that time regarded as hisheir--had not given a correct account, and was so angry that he senthim to sea. 

"I would say, sir, " he said earnestly, "that, were it possible, Ishould have wished this unhappy affair to be passed over. "

"Impossible!" the admiral and general said together. 

"I fear it is impossible now, sir, " James said gravely; "but it mighthave been stopped before. "

"Captain Walsham wanted me to tear up the note, " the midshipman put in;"but, though I was awfully sorry such a thing should happen to anofficer of the Sutherland, I was obliged to refuse to do so, as Ithought it was my duty to hand the note to you. "

"Certainly it was, Mr. Middleton, " the admiral said. "There can be noquestion about that. "

"I wonder that you even suggested such a thing, Captain Walsham, " thegeneral remarked. "This was not a private affair. The whole success ofthe enterprise was jeopardized. "

"It was, sir, " James said quietly; "but you must remember that, at thetime I asked Mr. Middleton to tear up the note, it had ceased to bejeopardized, for I had got fairly away. I am under great obligations toMr. Linthorne, and would do much to save him pain. I regarded this act, not as one of treason against the country, but as one of personalenmity to myself, and I am sure that Lieutenant Horton, himself, didnot think of the harm that his letter might do to the cause, but wasblinded by his passion against me. "

"Your conduct does credit to your heart, Captain Walsham, if not toyour head, " General Wolfe said. 

The admiral rang the bell. 

"Tell Lieutenant Horton that I wish to speak to him, and order acorporal, with a file of marines, to be at the door. "

The messenger found Lieutenant Horton pacing the quarterdeck withhurried steps. On the receipt of the message, instead of going directlyto the admiral's cabin, he ran down below, caught something from ashelf by his berth, placed it in the breast of his coat, and then wentto the admiral's cabin. The corporal, with the two marines, had alreadytaken his station there. The young officer drew a deep breath, andentered. 

A deadly fear had seized him, from the moment he saw the signal ofJames Walsham, although it seemed impossible to him that his treacherycould have been discovered. The sudden summons at this hour of thenight confirmed his fears, and it was with a face almost as pale asdeath that he entered the cabin. 

"Lieutenant Horton, " the admiral said, "you are accused of havingassisted in the escape of the pilot, who was our prisoner on board thisship. You are further accused of releasing him with the special purposethat the plans which General Wolfe had laid, to obtain information, might be thwarted. "

"Who accuses me?" Richard Horton asked. "Captain Walsham is my enemy. He has for years intrigued against me, and sought to do me harm. He wasthe companion of smugglers, and was captured by the Thetis, and had thechoice of being sent to prison, and tried for his share in the killingof some of the coast guards, or of going before the mast. I was alieutenant in the Thetis at the time, and I suppose, because I did notthen interfere on his behalf, he has now trumped up this accusationagainst me, an accusation I defy him to prove. "

"You are mistaken, Lieutenant Horton, " the admiral said. "CaptainWalsham is not your accuser. Nay, more, he has himself committed agrave dereliction of duty in trying to screen you, and by endeavouringto destroy the principal evidence against you. Mr. Middleton overhearda conversation between the Canadian pilot and the French general, andthe former described how he had been liberated by an English officer, who assisted him to escape by a rope from the porthole in his cabin. "

"I do not see that that is any evidence against me, " Richard Hortonsaid. "In the first place, the man may have been lying. In the secondplace, unless he mentioned my name, why am I suspected more than anyother officer? And, even if he did mention my name, my word is surelyas good as that of a Canadian prisoner. It is probable that the man wasreleased by one of the crew--some man, perhaps, who owed me agrudge--who told him to say that it was I who freed him, in hopes thatsome day this outrageous story might get about. "

"Your suggestions are plausible, Mr. Horton, " the admiral said coldly. "Unfortunately, it is not on the word of this Canadian that we have todepend. 

"There, sir, " he said, holding out the letter; "there is the chiefwitness against you. Captain Peters instantly recognized yourhandwriting, as Mr. Middleton had done before him. "

Richard Horton stood gazing speechlessly at the letter. So confoundedwas he, by the unexpected production of this fatal missive, that he wasunable to utter a single word of explanation or excuse. 

"Lay your sword on the table, sir, " the admiral said, "and retire toyour cabin, where you will remain, under close arrest, till a courtmartial can be assembled. "

Richard Horton unbuckled his sword and laid it on the table, and leftthe cabin without a word. 

"It would have been better to send a guard with him, " Captain Peterssaid; "he might jump overboard, or blow his brains out. "

"Quite so, Peters, " the admiral said. "The very thing that was in mymind, when I told him to retire to his cabin--the very best thing hecould do, for himself and for the service. A nice scandal it would be, to have to try and hang a naval officer for treachery. 

"I am sure you agree with me, general?"

"Thoroughly, " the general said. "Let him blow his brains out, ordesert; but you had best keep a sharp lookout that he does not desertat present. After we have once effected our landing, I should say keepas careless a watch over him as possible; but don't let him go before. It is bad enough that the French know that Captain Walsham went ashorefor the purpose of discovering a landing place; but it would be worsewere they to become aware that he has rejoined the ships, and that hewas taken off by a boat within a couple of miles of the spot where wemean to land. "

The admiral was right. Richard Horton had, when summoned to the cabin, hastily placed a pistol in his bosom, with the intention of blowing outhis brains, should he find that the discovery he dreaded had been made. Had the marines posted outside the cabin been ordered to accompany him, he would at once have carried his purpose into execution; but, findinghimself free, he walked to his cabin, still determined to blow out hisbrains before morning; but, the impulse once past, he could not summonup resolution to carry his resolve into effect. He would do it, he saidto himself, before the court martial came on. That would be timeenough. 

This was the decision he arrived at when the morning dawned upon him, lying despairing in his cot. 

Chapter 21: The Capture Of Quebec. 

On the day on which he received James' report, Wolfe issued his ordersfor the attack. Colonel Burton, at Point Levi, was to bring up everyman who could be spared, to assist in the enterprise, and that officeraccordingly marched to the spot indicated for embarkation, afternightfall, with 1200 men. 

As night approached, the main fleet, under Admiral Saunders, belowQuebec, ranged itself opposite Beauport, and opened a tremendouscannonade, while the boats were lowered, and filled with sailors andmarines. Montcalm, believing that the movements of the English abovethe town were only a feint, and that their main body was still belowit, massed his troops in front of Beauport, to repel the expectedlanding. 

To Colonel Howe, of the Light Infantry, was given the honour of leadingthe little party, who were to suddenly attack Vergor's camp, at thehead of the path. James Walsham, knowing the way, was to accompany himas second in command. Twenty-four picked men volunteered to followthem. Thirty large troop boats, and some boats belonging to the ships, were in readiness, and 1700 men took their places in them. 

The tide was still flowing, and, the better to deceive the French, thevessels and boats were allowed to drift upwards for a little distance, as if to attempt to effect a landing above Cap Rouge. Wolfe had, thatday, gained some intelligence which would assist him to deceive theenemy, for he learned that a number of boats, laden with provisionsfrom Quebec, were coming down with the tide. 

Wolfe was on board the Sutherland. He was somewhat stronger than he hadbeen for some days, but felt a presentiment that he would die in theapproaching battle. About two o'clock, the tide began to ebb, and twolanterns--the signal for the troops to put off--were shown in therigging of the Sutherland. 

Fortune favoured the English. Bougainville had watched the vessels, until he saw them begin to drift down again with the stream, and, thinking that they would return again with the flood, as they had donefor the last seven days, allowed his weary troops to retire to theircamp. The battalion of Guienne, instead of encamping near the heights, had remained on the Saint Charles; and Vergor, an incapable andcowardly officer, had gone quietly to bed, and had allowed a number ofthe Canadians under him to go away to their village, to assist ingetting in the harvest. 

For two hours, the English boats drifted down with the stream. As theyneared their destination, they suddenly were challenged by a Frenchsentry. An officer, who spoke the language replied, "France. "

"A quel regiment?"

"De la reine, " the officer replied, knowing that a part of thatregiment was with Bougainville. The sentry, believing that they werethe expected provision boats, allowed them to pass on. 

A few hundred yards further, another sentry challenged them. The sameofficer replied in French, "Provision boats. Don't make a noise; theEnglish will hear us. "

A few minutes later, the boats rowed up to the strand, at the foot ofthe heights. Vergor had placed no sentry on the shore, and the troopslanded unchallenged. Guided by James Walsham, Colonel Howe, with histwenty-four volunteers, led the way. As silently as they could, theymoved up the pathway, until they gained the top, and saw before themthe outline of the tents. They went at them with a rush. Vergor leapedfrom his bed, and tried to run off, but was shot in the heel andcaptured. His men, taken by surprise, made little resistance. One ortwo were caught, but the rest fled. 

The main body of the troops were waiting, for the most part, in theboats by the edge of the bank. Not a word was spoken as the menlistened, almost breathlessly, for a sound which would tell themwhether the enterprise had succeeded. Suddenly the stillness was brokenby the musketry on the top of the heights, followed by a loud Britishcheer. Then all leapt from the boats, and each man, with his musketslung at his back, scaled the rocks as best he might. The narrow pathhad been made impassable by trenches and abattis, but the obstructionswere soon cleared away, and the stream of soldiers poured steadily up. 

As soon as a sufficient number had gained the plateau, strong partieswere sent off to seize the batteries at Samos and Sillery, which hadjust opened fire upon the boats and ships. This was easily done, andthe English footing on the plateau was assured. As fast as the boatswere emptied of the men, they rowed back to the ships to fetch more, and the whole force was soon on shore. The day began to break a fewminutes after the advanced troops had gained the heights, and, beforeit was fairly daylight, all the first party were drawn up in line, ready to resist attack. But no enemy was in sight. A body of Canadians, who had sallied from the town on hearing the firing, and moved alongthe strand towards the landing place, had been quickly driven back, and, for the present, no other sign of the enemy was to be seen. 

Wolfe reconnoitred the ground, and found a suitable place for a battle, at a spot known as the Plains of Abraham, from a pilot of that name whohad owned a piece of land there, in the early days of the colony. Itwas a tract of grass, with some cornfields here and there, and studdedby clumps of bushes. On the south, it was bounded by the steep falldown to the Saint Lawrence; on the north, it sloped gradually down tothe Saint Charles. 

Wolfe led his troops to this spot and formed them in line, across theplateau and facing the city. The right wing rested on the edge of theheight, along the Saint Lawrence, but the left did not extend farenough to reach the slopes down to the Saint Charles. To prevent beingoutflanked on this wing, Brigadier Townshend was stationed here, withtwo battalions, drawn up at right angles to the rest, and facing theSaint Charles. Webb's regiment formed the reserve, the 3d battalion ofRoyal Americans were left to guard the landing, and Howe's lightinfantry occupied a wood, far in the rear of the force, to checkBougainville should he approach from that direction. Wolfe, with histhree brigadiers, commanded the main body, which, when all the troopshad arrived, numbered less than three thousand five hundred men. 

Quebec was less than a mile distant from the spot where the troops wereposted, in order of battle, but an intervening ridge hid it from thesight of the troops. At six o'clock, the white uniforms of thebattalion of Guienne, which had marched up in hot haste from their campon the Saint Charles, made their appearance on the ridge, and haltedthere, awaiting reinforcements. Shortly afterwards, there was anoutbreak of hot firing in the rear, where the light troops, underColonel Howe, repulsed a detachment of Bougainville's command, whichcame up and attacked them. 

Montcalm had been on the alert all night. The guns of Saunders' fleetthundered unceasingly, opposite Beauport, and its boats hovered nearthe shore, threatening a landing. All night, the French troops remainedin their intrenchments. Accompanied by the Chevalier Johnston, heremained all night in anxious expectation. He felt that the criticalmoment had come, but could not tell from which direction the blow wasto arrive. He had sent an officer to Vaudreuil, whose quarters werenear Quebec, begging him to send word instantly, should anything occurabove the town. 

Just at daybreak, he heard the sound of cannon from that direction. This was the battery at Samos, opening fire upon the English ships. Butno word came from Vaudreuil and, about six o'clock, Montcalm mountedand, accompanied by Johnston, rode towards the town. As he approachedthe bridge across the Saint Charles, the country behind the town openedto his view, and he presently saw the red line of British troops, drawnup on the heights above the river, two miles away. Instantly, he sentJohnston off, at full gallop, to bring up the troops from the centreand left. Vaudreuil had already ordered up those on the right. Montcalmrode up to Vaudreuil's quarters, and, after a few words with thegovernor, galloped over the bridge of the Saint Charles towards theseat of danger. 

It must have been a bitter moment for him. The fruits of his long careand watching were, in a moment, snatched away, and, just when he hopedthat the enemy, foiled and exhausted, were about to return to England, he found that they had surmounted the obstacles he had deemedimpregnable, and were calmly awaiting him on a fair field of battle. One who saw him said that he rode towards the field, with a fixed look, uttering not a word. 

The army followed in hot haste, crossed the Saint Charles, passedthrough Quebec, and hurried on to the ridge, where the battalion ofGuienne had taken up its position. Nothing could have been strongerthan the contrast which the two armies afforded. On the one side wasthe red English line, quiet and silent, save that the war pipes of theHighlanders blew loud and shrilly; on the other were the white-coatedbattalions of the regular army of France, the blue-clad Canadians, thebands of Indians in their war paint and feathers, all hurried andexcited by their rapid march, and by the danger which had sounexpectedly burst upon them. 

Now the evils of a divided command were apparent. Vaudreuilcountermanded Montcalm's orders for the advance of the left of thearmy, as he feared that the English might make a descent upon Beauport. Nor was the garrison of Quebec available, for Ramesay, its commander, was under the orders of Vaudreuil and, when Montcalm sent to him fortwenty-five field guns from one of its batteries, he only sent three, saying that he wanted the rest for his own defence. 

Montcalm held a council of war with all his officers, and determined toattack at once. For this he has been blamed. That he must have foughtwas certain, for the English, in the position which they occupied, cuthim off from the base of his supplies; but he might have waited for afew hours, and in that time he could have sent messengers, and broughtup the force of Bougainville, which could have marched, by a circuitousroute, and have joined him without coming in contact with the English. 

Upon the other hand, Montcalm had every reason to believe that thethirty-five hundred men he saw before him formed a portion, only, ofthe English army, that the rest were still on board the fleet oppositeBeauport, and that a delay would bring larger reinforcements to Wolfethan he could himself receive. He was, as we know, mistaken, but hisreasoning was sound, and he had, all along, believed the English armyto be far more numerous than it really was. He was doubtless influencedby the fact that his troops were full of ardour, and that any delaywould greatly dispirit the Canadians and Indians. 

He therefore determined to attack at once. The three field pieces, sentby Ramesay, opened fire upon the English line with canister, whilefifteen hundred Canadians and Indians crept up among the bushes andknolls, and through the cornfield, and opened a heavy fire. Wolfe threwout skirmishers in front of the line, to keep these assailants incheck, and ordered the rest of the troops to lie down to avoid thefire. 

On the British left, the attack was most galling. Bands of thesharpshooters got among the thickets, just below the edge of thedeclivity down to the Saint Charles, and from these, and from severalhouses scattered there, they killed and wounded a considerable numberof Townshend's men. 

Howe was called up, with his light troops, from the rear; and he, andthe two flank battalions of Townshend, dashed at the thickets, and, after some sharp fighting, partially cleared them, and took and burnedsome of the houses. 

Towards ten o'clock, the French advanced to the attack. Their centrewas formed of regular troops, only, with regulars and Canadianbattalions on either flank. Two field pieces which, with enormouslabour, the English had dragged up the path from the landing place, atonce opened fire with grape upon the French line. 

The advance was badly conducted. The French regulars marched steadilyon, but the Canadians, firing as they advanced, threw themselves on theground to reload, and this broke the regularity of the line. TheEnglish advanced some little distance, to meet their foes, and thenhalted. 

Not a shot was fired until the French were within forty paces, andthen, at the word of command, a volley of musketry crashed out alongthe whole length of the line. So regularly was the volley given, thatthe French officers afterwards said that it sounded like a singlecannon shot. Another volley followed, and then the continuous roar ofindependent firing. 

When the smoke cleared off a little, its effects could be seen. TheFrench had halted where they stood, and, among them, the dead andwounded were thickly strewn. All order and regularity had been lostunder that terrible fire, and, in three minutes, the line of advancingsoldiers was broken up into a disorderly shouting mob. Then Wolfe gavethe order to charge, and the British cheer, mingled with the wild yellof the Highlanders, rose loud and fierce. The English regimentsadvanced with levelled bayonets. The Highlanders drew their broadswordsand rushed headlong forward. 

The charge was decisive. The French were swept helplessly before it, and the battle was at an end, save that the scattered parties ofCanadians and Indians kept up, for some time, a fire from the bushesand cornfields. 

Their fire was heaviest on the British right, where Wolfe himself ledthe charge, at the head of the Louisbourg Grenadiers. A shot shatteredhis wrist. He wrapped his handkerchief around it and kept on. Anothershot struck him, but he still advanced. When a third pierced hisbreast, he staggered and sat down. Two or three officers and mencarried him to the rear, and then laid him down, and asked if theyshould send for a surgeon. 

"There is no need, " he said. "It is all over with me. "

A moment later, one of those standing by him cried out:

"They run, see how they run!"

"Who run?" Wolfe asked. 

"The enemy, sir. They give way everywhere. "

"Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton, " Wolfe said. "Tell him to marchWebb's regiment down to the Charles River, to cut off their retreatfrom the bridge;" then, turning on his side, he said:

"Now, God be praised, I will die in peace!" and, a few minutes later, he expired. 

Montcalm, still on horseback, was borne by the tide of fugitivestowards the town. As he neared the gate, a shot passed through hisbody. 

It needed some hard work before the Canadians, who fought bravely, could be cleared out from the thickets. The French troops did not rallyfrom their disorder till they had crossed the Saint Charles. TheCanadians retired in better order. 

Decisive as the victory was, the English, for the moment, were in nocondition to follow it up. While on the French side Montcalm was dying, and his second in command was mortally wounded; on the English, Wolfewas dead and Monckton, second in rank, badly wounded, and the commandhad fallen upon Townshend, at the moment when the enemy were in fullflight. Knowing that the French could cut the bridge of boats acrossthe Saint Charles, and so stop his pursuit, and that Bougainville wasclose at hand, he halted his troops, and set them to work to intrenchthemselves on the field of battle. 

Their loss had been six hundred and sixty-four, of all ranks, killedand wounded; while the French loss was estimated at about double thatnumber. In point of numbers engaged, and in the total loss on bothsides, the fight on the Plains of Abraham does not deserve to rank as agreat battle, but its results were of the most extreme importance, forthe victory transferred Canada from France to England. 

Vaudreuil, after joining his force with that of Bougainville, wouldhave still vastly outnumbered the English, and could, by taking up afresh position in their rear, have rendered himself impregnable, untilthe winter forced the English to retire; while the latter had no meansof investing or besieging Quebec. But his weakness was now as great ashis presumption had been before, and, on the evening of the battle, heabandoned the lines of Beauport, and, leaving all his tents and storesbehind him, retreated hastily, or rather it may be said fled, for asthe Chevalier Johnston said of it:

"It was not a retreat, but an abominable flight, with such disorder andconfusion that, had the English known it, three hundred men sent afterus would have been sufficient to have cut all our army to pieces. Thesoldiers were all mixed, scattered, dispersed, and running as hard asthey could, as if the English army were at their heels. "

The flight was continued, until they reached the impregnable positionof Jacques Cartier on the brink of the Saint Lawrence, thirty milesfrom the scene of action. 

Montcalm died in Quebec the next morning. Levis soon arrived at JacquesCartier from Montreal, and took the command, and at once attempted torestore order, and persuaded Vaudreuil to march back to joinBougainville, who had remained firmly with his command, at Cap Rouge, while the horde of fugitives swept by him. Vaudreuil, before leaving, had given orders to Ramesay to surrender, if Quebec was threatened byassault, and Levis, on his march to its relief, was met by the newsthat, on the morning of the 18th, Ramesay had surrendered. 

The garrison was utterly dispirited, and unwilling to fight. Theofficers were even more anxious to surrender than the men, and, on thefleet approaching the walls Ramesay obeyed Vaudreuil's orders, andsurrendered. Townshend granted favourable conditions, for he knew thatLevis was approaching, and that his position was dangerous in theextreme. He therefore agreed that the troops and sailors of thegarrison should march out from the place, with the honours of war, andwere to be carried to France, and that the inhabitants should haveprotection in person and property, and free exercise of religion. 

The day after the capture of Quebec, James Walsham returned on boardship. The thought of Richard Horton, awaiting the court martial, whichwould assuredly award him the sentence of death for his treachery, wasconstantly in his mind. He remembered the conversation between CaptainPeters and the admiral, and General Wolfe's words: "I should say, keepas careless a watch over him as possible, " and he determined, ifpossible, to aid him in making his escape, confident that, in thegeneral exultation at the success of the enterprise, no one wouldtrouble greatly about the matter, and that the admiral would be onlytoo pleased that an inquiry should be avoided, which could but end inthe disgrace and execution of a naval officer. 

James was relieved when, on his arrival, he found that Richard Hortonwas still in confinement, for he feared that he might have carried outthe other alternative spoken of by the admiral, and might havecommitted suicide. 

"Captain Peters, " he said, going up to that officer, "I should beobliged if you would give me an order to see Lieutenant Horton. "

"Can't do it, my lad. The admiral's orders are precise. Nobody is to beadmitted to see him, without an order signed by himself. "

James accordingly sought the admiral's cabin. 

"What do you want to see him for, eh?" the admiral asked. 

James hesitated. He would not tell an untruth in the matter, and yet hecould think of no excuse which could answer, without doing so. 

"I want to see him, sir, to have some conversation with him. "

"Ah!" the admiral said, looking at him keenly. "Conversation, eh! Youare not going to take him a pistol, or poison, or anything of thatsort, to help him to put an end to his wretched existence?"

"No, indeed, sir, " James said warmly. 

"Humph! You are not thinking, I hope, " he said, with a twinkle of theeye, "of helping him to escape?"

James was silent. 

"Well, well, " the admiral said hastily, "that's not a fair question toask. However, I will tell you in confidence that, if he should escape, which is the most unlikely thing in the world, you know, no one wouldbe particularly sorry, and there would be no great fuss made about it. Everyone in the navy here would feel it cast a slur upon the serviceif, at a time like this, a naval officer were tried and shot fortreachery. However, if it must be it must. 

"Here is an order for you to see him. If it was anyone else, I mighthave my doubts about granting it, but as you are the man against whomhe played this scurvy trick, I feel safe in doing so. 

"There you are, my lad. Give me your hand. You are a fine fellow, MajorWalsham, a very fine fellow. "

Immediately upon entering Quebec, James had purchased a largeturn-screw, some ten yards of fine but strong rope, and three or fourbladders. When he procured the order, he went to his cabin, took offhis coat, wound the rope round his body, and then, putting on his coat, placed the flattened bladders under it and buttoned it up, slipping theturn-screw up his sleeve, and then proceeded to the prisoner's cabin. The sentry at once admitted him, on producing the admiral's order. 

Richard Horton was lying down on his berth, and started with surpriseas his visitor entered. 

"I am glad you have come to see me, James Walsham, for I have beenwishing to speak to you, and I thought you would come. I have beenthinking much for the last two days. I know that it is all up with me. The proofs are too strong, and I will not face a court martial, for Ihave the means--I know I may tell you safely--of avoiding it. The hourthat brings me news that the court is ordered to assemble, I cease tolive. 

"When a man is at that point, he sees things more clearly, perhaps, than he did before. I know that I have wronged you, and, when theadmiral said that you had done all in your power to shield me, I feltmore humiliated than I did when that fatal letter was produced. I knowwhat you have come for--to tell me that you bear me no malice. You area fine fellow, Walsham, and deserve all your good fortune, just as Ideserve what has befallen me. I think, if it had not been for thesquire taking me up, I should never have come to this, but might havegrown up a decent fellow. But my head was turned. I thought I was goingto be a great man, and this is what has come of it. "

"I have come partly, as you suppose, to tell you that I bear you nomalice, Richard Horton. I, too, have thought matters over, andunderstand your feeling against me. That first unfortunate quarrel, andits unfortunate result, set you against me, and, perhaps, I never didas much as I might to turn your feelings the other way. However, wewill not talk more of that. All that is past and over. I come to you, now, as the nephew of the man who has done so much for me. I havebrought with me the means of aiding your escape. "

"Of aiding my escape, Walsham! You must be mad! I am too securelyfastened here; and, even were it not so, I would not accept a kindnesswhich would cost you your commission, were it known. "

"As to the second reason, you may make your mind easy. From words whichdropped, from the admiral, I am sure that everyone will be so glad, atyour escape, that no very strict inquiry will be made. In the nextplace, your fastenings are not so very secure. The porthole is screweddown as usual. "

"Yes, " Horton said; "but, in addition, there are a dozen strong screwsplaced round it. "

"Here is a long turn-screw which will take them out as quickly as thecarpenter put them in, " James said, producing the tool; "and here, " andhe opened his coat, "is a rope for lowering yourself down into thewater. "

"You are very good, James, " Horton said quietly; "but it is no use. Ican't swim. "

"I know you could not, as a boy, " James replied, "and I thought itlikely enough that you have not learned since; but I think, with these, you may make a shift to get ashore, " and he produced four bladders andsome strong lashing. "If you blow these out, fasten the necks tightly, and then lash them round you, you can't sink. The drift of the tidewill take you not very far from the point below, and, if you do yourbest to strike out towards the shore, I have no doubt you will be ableto make it. You must lower yourself into the water very quietly, andallow yourself to float down, till you are well astern of the vessel. "

Richard Horton stood for a minute or two, with his hand over his eyes;then he said in a broken voice:

"God bless you, Walsham. I will try it. If I am shot, 'tis better thandying by my own hand. If I escape, I will do my best to retrieve mylife. I shall never return to England again, but, under a new name, maystart afresh in the colonies. God bless you, and make you happy. "

The young men wrung each other hands, with a silent clasp, and Jamesreturned to his own cabin. 

The next morning, the officer of marines reported to Captain Petersthat the prisoner was missing. The porthole was found open, and a ropehanging to the water's edge. The captain at once took the report to theadmiral. 

"A bad job, " the admiral said, with a twinkle of the eye. "A very badjob! How could it have happened?"

"The sentries report, sir, that they heard no noise during the night, and that the only person who visited the cabin, with the exception ofthe sergeant with the prisoner's food, was Major Walsham, with your ownorder. "

"Yes, now I think of it, I did give him an order; but, of course, hecan have had nothing to do with it. Horton must have managed to unscrewthe porthole, somehow, perhaps with a pocketknife, and he might havehad a coil of rope somewhere in his cabin. Great carelessness, youknow. However, at a time like this, we need not bother our heads aboutit. He's gone, and there's an end of it. "

"He could not swim, sir, " the captain said. "I heard him say so, once. "

"Then most likely he's drowned, " the admiral remarked briskly. "That'sthe best thing that could happen. Enter it so in the log book:'Lieutenant Horton fell out of his cabin window, while under arrest formisconduct; supposed to have been drowned. ' That settles the wholematter. "

Captain Peters smiled to himself, as he made the entry. He wasconvinced, by the calm manner in which the admiral took it, that hemore than suspected that the prisoner had escaped, and that JamesWalsham had had a hand in getting him off. 

Shortly after Quebec surrendered, Townshend returned to England withthe fleet, leaving Murray in command of the army at Quebec. In thespring, Levis advanced with eight or nine thousand men against Quebec;and Murray, with three thousand, advanced to meet him, and gave battlenearly on the same ground on which the previous battle had been fought. The fight was a desperate one; but the English, being outflanked by thesuperior numbers of the French, were driven back into Quebec, with theloss of a third of their number. 

Quebec was now besieged by the French until, in May, an English fleetarrived, and destroyed the vessels which had brought down the storesand ammunition of Levis from Montreal. The French at once broke uptheir camp, and retreated hastily; but all hope was now gone, the lossof Quebec had cut them off from France. 

Amherst invaded the country from the English colonies, and the Frenchwere driven back to Montreal, before which the united English forces, 17, 000 strong, took up their position; and, on the 8th of September, 1760, Vaudreuil signed the capitulation, by which Canada and all itsdependencies passed to the English crown. All the French officers, civil and military, and the French troops and sailors, were to be sentback to France, in English ships. 

James Walsham was not present at the later operations round Quebec. Hehad been struck, in the side, by a shot by a lurking Indian, when acolumn had marched out from Quebec, a few days after its capture; and, for three or four weeks, he lay between life and death, on board ship. When convalescence set in, he found that he was already on blue water, all the serious cases being taken back by the fleet when, soon afterthe capture of Quebec, it sailed for England. 

The voyage was a long one, and, by the time the fleet sailed with theirconvoy into Portsmouth harbour, James had recovered much of hisstrength. An hour after landing, he was in a post chaise on his wayhome. It seemed strange, indeed, to him, as he drove through the littletown, on his way up to the Hall. He had left it, in the beginning of1755, a raw young fellow of eighteen. He returned, in the last month of1759, a man of twenty-three, with the rank of major, and noinconsiderable share of credit and honour. 

He stopped the vehicle at the lodge gate, had his baggage taken outthere, and proceeded on foot towards the Hall, for he was afraid that, if he drove straight up to the door, the sudden delight of seeing himwould be too much for his mother. 

John Petersham opened the door, and, recognizing him at once, was aboutto exclaim loudly, when James made a motion for him to be silent. 

"Show me quietly into the squire's study, John, " he said, grasping thebutler's hand with a hearty squeeze, "and don't say anything about mybeing here, until he has seen my mother. They are all well, I hope?"

"All well, sir, and right glad they will be to see you; for Mrs. Walsham, and all of them, have been fretting sorely since the news camethat you were badly wounded. "

"I have had a narrow shave of it, " James said; "but, thank God, I am aswell now as ever!"

As he spoke, he opened the door of the study, and entered. The squire, who was reading the paper, looked up, and leapt to his feet with a cryof satisfaction. 

"My dear boy, I am glad--thank God you are back again! What a reliefyour coming will be to us all!"

And he shook James warmly by both hands. 

"I should hardly have known you, and yet you are not so much changed, either. Dear, dear, how delighted your mother will be! You have notseen her yet?"

"No, sir, " James said. "I dismissed the post chaise at the gate, andwalked up quietly. I was afraid, if I drove suddenly up, the shockmight be too much for her. "

"Quite right!" the squire said. "We must break it to her quietly. Wilksmust do it--or no, he shall tell Aggie, and she shall tell yourmother. "

He rang the bell, and John, who had been expecting a summons, instantlyappeared. 

"Tell Mr. Wilks I want to speak to him, John. "

The old soldier speedily appeared, and his delight was as great as ifJames had been his son. He went off to break the news, and, in a shorttime, Mrs. Walsham was in the arms of her son. 

Major Walsham went no more to the wars, nor did he follow his originalintention of entering the medical profession. Indeed, there was nooccasion for him to do either. For Aggie insisted on his leaving thearmy; and she had a very strong voice in the matter. James had not longbeen home before he and the young lady came to an understanding. Beforespeaking to her, James had consulted his old friend. 

"You know how I feel, " he said; "but I don't know whether it would beright. You see, although I am major in the service, I have nothing butmy pay. I owe everything to the squire, and he would naturally lookvery much higher for a husband for his granddaughter. "

"Don't you be a fool, James Walsham, " Mr. Wilks said. "I made up mymind that you should marry Aggie, ever since the day when you got herout of the sea. The squire has known, for years, what I thought on thesubject. You will meet with no opposition from him, for he is almost asproud of you as I am. Besides, he thinks only of Aggie's happiness, and, unless I am greatly mistaken, that young lady has fully made upher mind on the subject. "

This was indeed the case, for Aggie, when James had settled the pointwith her, made no hesitation in telling him that she had regarded himas her special property since she had been a child. 

"I considered it all settled, years and years ago, " she said demurely, "and I was quite aggrieved, I can tell you, when, on your arrival, youjust held out your hand to me, instead of--well, instead of doing thesame to me as to your mother. "

"You shall have no reason for complaint, that way, in the future, Aggie, I promise you. But how could I tell? The last time I saw you, you were flirting, as hard as you could, with someone else. "

"Well, sir, whose fault was that? You chose to make yourselfdisagreeable, and stay away, and what was I to do? I should do the samein the future, I can tell you, if you neglected me in the same way. "

"I sha'n't give you the chance, Aggie. You can rely upon that. "

The squire was fully prepared for the communication which James had tomake to him, and, as there were no reasons for waiting, the ceremonytook place very shortly afterwards. 

The squire never asked any questions about his nephew. The officialreport had come home that Lieutenant Horton had died of drowning, whileunder arrest, but the squire forbore all inquiry, and, to the end ofhis life, remained in ignorance of the disgraceful circumstances. 

Perhaps, in his heart, the news was a relief to him. He had never beenfond of Richard as a lad, and his confidence, once shaken, had neverbeen restored. He had intended to carry out his promise to leave himtwenty thousand pounds; but he was well pleased that all that belongedto him should descend to his granddaughter. Mr. Wilks was the onlyresident at the Hall who ever learned, from James, the facts of RichardHorton's disgrace. 

Years afterwards a few lines, without signature or address, came toJames from America. The writer said that he was sure that he would beglad to hear that, under a changed name, he was doing very well. 

"I shall never return to England, " he ended, "nor ever forget yourkindness and generosity. "

The marriage of the young people made but few changes at the Hall. Thesquire proposed to give Aggie, at once, a sum which would havepurchased an estate in the neighbourhood; but he was delighted to findthat she, and James, had made up their minds that the party at the Hallshould not be broken up. 

"What do you want to send us away for, grandpapa?" she asked. "Youthree will be happier for having us with you, and James and I will behappier for having you with us. What nonsense to talk about buyinganother estate! We might get a little house up in London. It would makea change, for James and me to spend two or three months every yearthere, but of course this will be our home. "

And so it was arranged, and so matters continued until, in the lapse oftime, the seniors passed away, and James Walsham and his wife, and itmay be said their children, became the sole occupants of the Hall, theestate having been largely increased, by the purchase of adjoiningproperty, by the squire before his death. James Walsham might haverepresented his county in Parliament had he chosen, but he was far toohappy in his country life, varied by a few months passed every year intown, to care about taking part in the turmoil of politics. He did muchfor Sidmouth, and especially for its fishermen, and, to the end of hislife, retained a passionate love for the sea.