CHAPTER XXVII
THE ATTACK OF THE FRENCH
“Dave! are ye alive?”
“I—I—reckon so, Sam—bu—but I am not sure!”
“We must git out o’ here, or we’ll run the danger o’ being burnt up!”
Barringford was right; already the scattered camp-fire, aided by the high wind, was commencing to set fire to the tree limbs that rested under the cliff.
On Dave’s breast was a mass of small stones, dirt, and snow, and it was with difficulty that he managed to sit up. Then he discovered that one leg was held down tightly by a branch of one of the fallen trees.
“I’m in a regular bear trap,” he panted.
“Both legs, lad?”
“No, only the left.”
“I’ll free ye,” answered the old frontiersman, and set to work immediately.
He was still laboring when White Buffalo crawled over the fallen trees toward them. Close at hand the flames were springing up, but the Indian stamped them out. Then he chopped away at the limb, and soon Dave was released.
“Are the others safe?” asked the young soldier. “I had an idea we would all be killed.”
All were out of the wreckage but one Indian and Heppy the messenger. These two had been lying under a large rock, which had loosened, and it was at first supposed that both were dead, but then came a faint cry for help.
“They are in a hollow tree under the rock,” said Grassbrook.
Such proved to be the case, and then arose the question of how the unhappy pair might be released.
“We must put out all the fire first,” said Barringford, and this was done, the flames being fought with flat sticks and with chunks of snow and dirt.
As soon as the last of the fires were extinguished, the large rock resting over the hollow was examined. There was an opening to the space below, so the prisoners beneath did not suffer from the want of air.
“We are both all right,” announced Heppy. “But we want to get out.”
“We must pry the rock off the hollow,” said Barringford.
Two long and heavy poles were cut for that purpose, and despite the wind and the cold, the whole party set to work to move the big rock from its resting place. The poles were placed under other rocks, acting as fulcrums, and all of those who could “get in line” were pressed into service.
“Hurrah! it is moving!” cried Dave.
He was right, and after straining for a minute more the huge rock rolled over and went crashing into another hollow below.
When Heppy and the Indian came out of the hole it was found they were somewhat bruised, but otherwise all right.
The wind still blew strongly, but the fury of the blast had spent itself, and they easily made themselves safe under the fallen trees, after looking to it that the giants of the forest were in no danger of rolling over and crushing them.
The next day found them again on the journey. They now skirted a valley where, in a sheltered spot, they saw a herd of deer. Two of the animals were laid low by Barringford and White Buffalo, and these gave them meat until the trip came to an end.
It was nearly the last of March when the party came in sight of the St. Lawrence, almost opposite to Quebec. An English outpost was not far distant, and they marched to this, where they were promptly challenged by a sentry, and escorted under guard to the officer in command.
“You have come a long distance, truly,” said the officer, after examining the passes they carried. “It is more of a journey than I should wish to take in such weather as this.”
“May I ask if you have had any battles with the French since Quebec was taken?” asked Dave.
“Not of much account. They tried to rout us out once or twice, but we beat them off easily. There is, however, a rumor that they intend to descend upon us in force early this spring, so if you remain here a while you may see more fighting.”
The ice on the river was now breaking up, and Dave and the others, after bidding a temporary farewell to White Buffalo and his followers, crossed the stream in a bateau which the English officer loaned them. They were soon on the opposite shore, and half an hour later found them in Quebec, and on the way to General Murray’s local headquarters.
Dave and Barringford had a good hour to wait before they could see the English commander, for General Murray had just received additional news concerning the expected attack by the French.
“Who are you and what do you wish?” demanded the general, tersely, as they came in.
Dave speedily introduced himself and Barringford, and handed the commander the letter he had brought from Fort Oswego, which Murray glanced over hastily.
“You are a cousin to Henry Morris, eh?” he said slowly.
“Yes, sir. May I ask have you—is he—he—still in prison?”
“Why shouldn’t he be in prison?” questioned the general keenly.
“I thought perhaps that you—you had punished him. They told me, sir, that you had issued an order——” Dave tried to go on, but could not. “Oh, sir,” he burst out, “he is not guilty! I am sure he is no thief!”
“Were you afraid I had put that order of mine into execution against him?” questioned General Murray, and now his tone was kindlier.
“I was, sir! That is why I came here—to save him if I can! He is such a good fellow—he wouldn’t steal from anybody.”
“That’s the truth, general,” put in Barringford. “I’ve known him from a babby, an’ he’s as honest as they grow ’em. Thar must be some mistake somewhar. Can’t Henry explain himself?”
“He has not tried,” answered General Murray dryly.
“Hasn’t tried?” ejaculated Dave. “Why, what——”
“He escaped from prison and left Quebec some time ago.”
“Is it possible!” came from Dave, his face full of conflicting emotions.
“Do you mean to say the boy up an’ run away?” came from Barringford.
“Yes.”
Both Dave and the old frontiersman shook their heads at this. The news was so unexpected it stunned them.
“I am half inclined to believe that he was not guilty,” went on General Murray. “I have learned that one of the fellows mixed up in the affair, a soldier named Prent, has a bad reputation, and one of Prent’s friends, Harkness, is a man who once served time in a Scotch prison. More than this, I received a letter from some party unknown, which would tend to prove that Henry Morris was the victim of circumstances or a plot.” And here the general drew out the letter already given in full in a former chapter.
“And nothing has been seen or heard of Henry since he ran away from here?” asked Dave.
“Nothing. How he got out of Quebec is unknown, and it is barely possible that he may be in hiding here, although I do not think so. He was foolish to run away.”
“But wouldn’t you run away if you were afraid of being hanged?” asked Dave quickly.
At this a faint smile crossed General Murray’s face. He was still a young man, and he could understand Dave’s feelings fully.
“It would be better to stay and face a trial—especially if innocent,” he said evasively; and after a few words more they were excused.
“I don’t know whether to be glad or sorry,” remarked Dave, as he and Barringford walked down the street. “What do you say, Sam?”
“I’d rather see Henry run than be hanged,” was the answer. “But it gits me whar he went, especially in the freezin’ cold weather. I hope he didn’t git lost in the snow and froze to death.”
Both Dave and Barringford soon found that Quebec was in a state of suppressed excitement. Alarms had been frequent, and now General Murray felt certain that an attack by the French would not be long delayed.
In this the young commander was correct. The French leader, Lévis, angry to think that Vaudreuil, the Governor-General, would not march on the city immediately after the English took possession, chafed all winter with his troops to do the enemy battle.
But the Governor-General was cautious. He knew that General Amherst, at Crown Point, only wanted a chance to fall upon Montreal, and so it was at Montreal that the French army gathered, and here the majority of them remained until early in April.
Presently came in reports that the English had lost many men by desertion and through sickness, and that Amherst at Crown Point could not yet think of moving, and Vaudreuil at length consented to listen to Lévis.
“We shall never have a better opportunity than now,” said General Lévis. “Murray is at present cut off from all outside supplies. If we wait until summer comes he will obtain re-enforcements from England, Boston, or New York, and then we will have a task that may be beyond us.”
Lévis had his way, and at once the sleepy town of Montreal awoke to life. The colonists who had been allowed to go home on furlough were recalled, drills were had daily, and large quantities of army stores were collected. Some troops demurred at what was required of them, but Vaudreuil was firm, and told them that they must either fight or suffer death.
It was decided to descend upon Quebec by way of the river, and for this purpose two frigates, two sloops-of-war, and a perfect swarm of bateaux and other small craft were pressed into service. The army numbered about six thousand men, and was, further down the St. Lawrence, increased to over eight thousand.
Some distance above Quebec is the small stream of Cap-Rouge, which flows into the St. Lawrence, and just beyond this is the settlement of St. Augustin. Amid much difficulty, for the river was still full of floating ice, the army, half perished with the cold, landed at St. Augustin, built a temporary bridge over the Cap-Rouge, and marched forward on the English outpost at Old Lorette.
It is likely that the outpost was taken somewhat by surprise, and after a lively skirmish the English garrison fell back to St. Foy, where active preparations were made to combat the French as soon as they should appear.
Had nature permitted it, it is possible that St. Foy would have fallen as quickly as did Old Lorette, for the marching enemy was strong in numbers. But as General Lévis advanced, through a long stretch of dangerous marshland, a heavy thunderstorm came on, and the rain descended in torrents. To this difficulty was added the darkness at night, and foot soldiers and troopers floundered about, scarcely knowing where they were going.
The delay had aided the English, and when, the next morning, the French appeared in front of St. Foy, they found the village fortified with cannon. There was an assault, and the French were driven back, and then Lévis, not knowing how few English soldiers were really intrenched before him, determined to wait until night before meeting the English again.