It was Jim undoubtedly, all his old backwoods coolness gone, all his cunning and his Indian ways forgotten in the excitement of this moment. His eyes were wide open, his lips set close together, while rage was written on every feature. The stolid hunter had been struck through the fleshy part of one arm, and the sting of the wound had served only to increase his excitement. With a bound he passed Steve, and in another second he had bayonetted the Frenchman, bringing the grenadier to the ground with a terrific crash. By then the head of the column was up at the batteries, and for a few moments a desperate hand to hand contest was fought, while the gunners endeavoured to fire their charges of grape into the midst of the rear of the column. However, English bayonets had before then driven the French off the field, and on this occasion our gallant fellows were not to be denied. They drove those of the enemy who dared to remain out of their rifle pits with their murderous bayonets, broke down and shattered their defence, and sent them racing for the fortress. Nor did that entirely satisfy them. They broke into more open order, and with Jim and Mac and Steve to lead, chased those fugitives to the very gates of the fortress, till reinforcements poured out of Louisbourg, and until the cannon of the fortress began to ply them with shot. Only then did they deign to retire, showing a defiant face to the enemy, now outnumbering them by many hundreds.

"Very gallantly done, lads," said the general, when the column was again drawn up, and the wounded had been seen to. "I congratulate officers and men on the brilliant dash which they have shown, and on having won a most valuable landing-place for our army. To-night you will have the place of honour in the general's published orders. Let me not forget to thank those gentlemen who have so recently come from a visit paid to the French in Quebec. Their gallantry and dash were most stimulating, while I myself owe some help to their leader."

There was a shout at that, for long ago the men had been made acquainted with Steve's history. But these men of the backwoods were as yet strangers to the majority of the attacking party, who had but lately arrived from England. They had heard many a time of their particular methods of fighting in the forests, of their cunning and of their value as scouts. It did them good to find that these same men could stand in the open and deliver a charge when bullets and round shot were flying, and when there was no cover to be obtained.

"I expect we shall soon have some of our old scouting work now," said Steve that night, as he and Jim and Mac sat under a tent which had been brought ashore, and discussed the action of the morning. "One of the first duties of the general will be to see that the country round about the fortress is clear, for there are many Indians about, and a canoe can easily be paddled across from the mainland. While we are scouting, the troops will be busily engaged in getting the guns ashore and making ready for a proper siege. That will be slow work, and I for one shall not care to take part in it."

Two mornings later our hero was sent for to the tent of Brigadier Wolfe.

"You will at once be attached to my light companies," he said, as Steve saluted. "Your friends will, of course, be with you, and you will do all you can to give instruction. The men had about two weeks' work at Halifax, but are, of course, very inexperienced. They are all young and active, and picked as marksmen."

On the following day, therefore, Steve and his friends walked over to the officer in command of these light infantry companies, and promptly set to work. On his advice the men were at once taken away from the camp, and divided into smaller parties, each of which was under one of the backwoodsmen, for Pete and Mr. Mainwaring had now come ashore. There was dense forest within easy reach, as well as some more open ground, on which, however, it was possible to find cover. And here for hours at a time the men were practised, till they were fairly proficient. Then one half was set to fight the other, the men being roused to such keenness by these methods that they hardly seemed to notice any fatigue.

"They are the fellows who will help us to win this war," said the brigadier a few days later, as he watched them at their work. "But now for my news. The rough seas are delaying the landing of stores, and until they are all ashore we cannot, of course, undertake to lay siege to the fortress. Meanwhile the general has ordered me to march round to the far side of the harbour and erect a battery there. I will take these companies. We start at daybreak to-morrow."

It would be tedious to narrate how Steve and his friends accompanied this expedition, and how, in spite of a galling fire from the batteries and the ships, General Wolfe managed to construct his earth-works and batteries at Lighthouse Point. It was a class of warfare which, like the attack on the cove, was entirely new to them, and all agreed in admiring the persistency and the cool bravery, not to say recklessness, of the soldiers.

That battery, in spite of the heavy fire poured upon it, silenced the French guns, and broke to pieces a battery on Goat Island in the middle of the harbour. Its fire was soon followed by the bellow of the huge siege guns which had now been brought ashore, and very soon the din about the fortress of Louisbourg was such that men were deafened, and Steve had never heard the like of it before. Sorties were delivered, and were promptly met and driven back. The siege was pressed vigorously, shot and shell pouring on the devoted place, while the politest messages passed between besiegers and besieged. Then the Canadians and their Indians outside our lines delivered their attack, an attack which Steve and the light regiments, now employed as scouts, were able to detect in good time and drive off easily.

And so a month passed, a month of endless cannonading, till the fortress was shattered, and the walls and buildings flying in fragments everywhere. The French were in desperate plight, and wisely agreed to surrender, having fought most gallantly. Thus the formidable fortress came into our hands, and Pitt's forward policy began to bring a long-looked for success. We had captured a place for long the greatest menace to our power in America, and with it had taken some six thousand soldiers and sailors, thus reducing the enemy's strength, while it set ten thousand of our own troops free to operate in other quarters. As for the fortress itself, it was of no use to us, and some two years later was torn to pieces and utterly dismantled. Hardly a stone of that fine costly place can be seen to-day.

Steve did not long remain at Cape Breton, for scouts were required at Ticonderoga, and an urgent message had been sent through to General Amherst to ask for a supply. Steve and his friends were sent, therefore, and arrived in the neighbourhood of Fort William Henry, now reconstructed, only to hear the doleful tidings of a defeat, the effects of which required even more than the crowning victory at Louisbourg to counteract. For General Abercromby had made a most hopeless and inexcusable failure of his long projected attack on the French fort at Ticonderoga. Nor was this failure due to want of careful preparation, to unsuitable troops, or to lack of courage. Of the troops there were plenty and to spare. Had the attack been delivered by the same troops again, properly led over ground which had been carefully reconnoitred, there would have been a different result, in spite of the stubborn and wonderful gallantry of the French. But Abercromby made no use of the excellent scouting material which he possessed. He made no use of the few guns dragged to this part with infinite labour, but left them six miles in his rear. He had six thousand troops, all burning to avenge the massacre at Fort William Henry, and he launched his regiments one after another over open ground in a frontal attack upon the chevaux de frise which the French had erected. Time and again gallant souls dashed forward, only to be beaten down and slain by the bullets and cannon of unseen marksmen and gunners. Why, the youngest subaltern, inexperienced in war, would have ordered all further attacks to cease till he had brought up his guns and smashed those formidable but flimsy defences to pieces. Not so General Abercromby. He had shown no lack of astuteness and organising ability up till now. But at this the critical time in the actions of this expedition he ruined all by his helpless and singularly unsuitable tactics, or, rather, by his absolute disregard of the simplest of tactics.

That bitter defeat cost us two thousand men, for the most part men of the regular regiments, though the colonial militia did their duty admirably. Indeed, as has been said, there was never any lack of bravery. The soldiers one and all were filled with the utmost courage and zeal.

Steve and his little band soon found more work to do, for Bradstreet, a popular and very dashing New England officer serving with Abercromby, jumped at the news which Mr. Mainwaring was able to give. Frontenac, a French port at the entrance to Lake Ontario, and almost opposite the forts at Oswego which Montcalm had captured and burned, had for a long time been of the utmost importance to the French. But to meet Abercromby at Ticonderoga, and Amherst at Louisbourg, the French had been compelled to denude it of its troops. Bradstreet at once took advantage of this news. With Steve and Jim leading his forces, he went by river and land, taking the Mohawk route, and after a long struggle reached the lake. From there he paddled across to Frontenac, captured the place, for there were only a hundred soldiers to defend it, and promptly burned the forts and town, together with some armed vessels lying off it, and enormous stores of food and armaments, powder and ball, which had been collected there. In fact, he delivered a blow of the utmost consequence, and one which helped not a little to counteract the defeat we had received at Ticonderoga. Let any reader who may happen to sail into Lake Ontario just glance at the fine city of Kingston, and remember that it was there, on the site which this city occupies, that Steve and his friends, with Bradstreet in command, inflicted a blow on the French which was of the utmost consequence, and which helped to make this eventful year of 1758 stand out prominently in our annals.

To their success was added that of Forbes, sent against Fort Duquesne. It will be remembered that it was here that Braddock had met with defeat, and that the fort from its position was necessarily a thorn in our sides. Forbes was faced with stupendous difficulties, not the least of which was the terrible weather he met with. It seemed, indeed, as if he would never reach his destination, for he had miles of forest to traverse, and a host of undisciplined troops to deal with. So certain did it appear that he would not persevere in his attempt, that the French reduced their garrison. However, Forbes, in spite of ill-health, was a man of bull-dog determination, and he eventually reached the fort, took it, and changed its name to that of Pitt. The thriving city of Pittsburg now occupies the site where Duquesne stood.

One other item has to be mentioned in the description of this year's doings. A gallant Moravian missionary, one Post by name, offered to undertake a journey to the Ohio Indians, who, led by the French, had for so long been harrying our Alleghany frontiers. This brave man went not once only, but twice to these people, at the risk of almost certain torture and death, and finally persuaded the fierce braves to give up their alliance with the French, to cease their slaughter, and to bury the hatchet with the six nations. For the tide of war was changing. The tale of Frontenac, and of Louisbourg, had reached to the farthest wigwams, and no Indian existed who did not desire above all things to be on the winning side, the side to which most reward and plunder would come.

Thus our generals found themselves with a huge weight off their minds. Ticonderoga still existed, and it alone barred our advance up those lakes, St. George and Champlain, to Canada itself. The winter of 1758 found Pitt with another policy, pushing on his preparations for carrying it out when the spring should have come to break up the ice in the mighty St. Lawrence. Quebec was to be the objective, and Brigadier-General Wolfe, the silent, active leader, was to command. Nor was Steve to be left out of the expedition, for hardly had the month of May, 1759, come when a message reached him.

"To Captain Steve Mainwaring," it read, "From General Wolfe. Please make it convenient to travel to New York at the earliest date, and from there join the fleet making for Quebec. I have urgent need of your services."

Steve packed his clothing, took Jim and Mac and his father with him, and set off at once, eager to see again the fair city in which he had been so long a prisoner.

Chapter XIX
Wolfe makes his Last Attempt

"Listen to that, boys. There is music for you," said Mr. Mainwaring some weeks after he, Steve, and the two trappers had set out for New York. "Listen to our guns, and do not say after this that we shall be too late. Quebec is not to be taken in a day. The city is one of the very strongest, and has a big army to defend it. I said long ago that we should be in time to see and take part in the crowning act of this campaign."

"And you've stuck to that through thick and thin, Judge," chimed in Jim, standing at the rail of the ship, and looking his old self again, for the hunter was dressed at this moment just as he had been on that day when we first made his acquaintance. Steve, too, was in his trapper's clothing, looking taller and broader now after his many months of campaigning, and bearing on his face more character perhaps than ever before, for the anxieties of command had developed the natural self-assurance which he had possessed from the first.

"I am delighted to feel that we are here at last, and in time, too, father," he said. "I confess that I had doubts about reaching Quebec before the city was taken, for we have been so long delayed. But here we are, and, of course, the very first thing will be to seek an interview with the general. I have my letter, and that should gain an interview for me. As to the city being easily captured, I am sure that our troops have their work cut out for them."

The little party was gathered on the deck of a small transport which they had picked up at Louisbourg. For having arrived at New York in accordance with the wish expressed in General Wolfe's letter, they had taken the first trader for Louisbourg, and had had the huge misfortune of running into big seas and nasty weather. Indeed, as if to make the task of our general harder, this season proved to be an extremely late one. Spring was very long in coming, and the expedition, which sailed from England early in the year, was much delayed by contrary winds. Even when it did arrive in the harbour of Louisbourg the seas were encumbered with ice floes, and ice was floating thickly in the harbour.

The same difficulties had been encountered by the ship on which Steve and his friends sailed, and when at length they reached Louisbourg the fleet had sailed for Quebec some weeks before, while their own arrival there was delayed further by having to await a transport. But here they were at last, and within a few hours were landed at the huge camp which the general had pitched on the western end of the Isle of Orleans. Promptly they went to the quartermaster-general to report themselves.

"Better late than never, gentlemen," he said, as Steve handed him his letter, "and I can promise you a very warm welcome from our leader, that is, as soon as he is recovered. He has very bad health as a general rule, as you may know, and now I regret to say that he is down with an attack of fever, and lies in bed over at the camp by the Montmorenci. Now, I shall allot tents for you, and you will draw rations in the ordinary course. You must find wood for yourselves, and must appoint your own cook."

"That ain't no difficulty to men as has been cooking their own grub all their lives," said Jim, with a laugh. "Reckon I'll take that 'ere job till the time comes for fightin'. Then I'm off to try what a charge feels like again. General, fightin' in the forest ain't nothin' for excitement compared with the rush of these 'ere soldiers. A man feels a man when he sees the enemy plain before him, and when he's made up his mind to reach 'em and turn 'em out whatever their numbers."

"The kind of spirit which I fancy fills our gallant fellows," came the smiling answer. "If I make no mistake you are Hunting Jim."

"You've struck it, General. That's me."

"Then I have heard of your dash at the landing on Cape Breton Island. You will have other chances, my man, for Quebec has still to be taken. Now I wish to warn you. Those guns are being fired from Point Lévis, just opposite the city, and should you make in that direction you will do wisely to keep well in rear of our batteries. The work there is rather warm at times. As to your duties. You will, of course, wait till you have seen the general. But there is much for you to do. We have Rogers, a gallant colonial, and Stark, and others, too, in command of bands of trappers and scouts like yourselves, and for weeks they have been in the forests, meeting the French irregulars and their Indians. There have been some very fierce encounters between the different parties, and I am glad to say that our men have driven the French and their allies back, and have penetrated even as far as Montreal. You might very well join one of those bands."

"And what of the fighting here, sir?" Steve ventured to ask. "We rather feared that we should arrive too late, for we have been very much delayed. It is already September."

"And very soon we shall have to be returning, for the winter will be upon us. But it will not come to that, I hope. Frankly, gentlemen, we are face to face with what would appear to be an insuperable difficulty. We have made attempts on the city without success, and our leader is almost in despair. As to what we have actually done, we brought our fleet right up the river, much to the amazement of the French, who have never dared to do such a thing with their own ships. That proves that our navy is very capable, and, indeed, we owe a tremendous amount to it. We pitched our camp here promptly, while the fleet lay off the island, and were almost at once in difficulties, for the French sent down fire ships. However, our tars made short work of the flaring ships, and, indeed, enjoyed the fun of towing them away. Then we captured Point Lévis, and commenced to build batteries. Our guns have been at work, just as you hear them now, almost incessantly for eight weeks, and the lower parts of the city are crushed to pieces. But still the garrison is there, with strongly entrenched lines stretching east from the city to the Montmorenci, and known to us as the lines of Beauport, while there is also a force watching the ford which exists higher up the river Montmorenci. Our aim is, of course, to get on to that plateau, and on one occasion we landed troops below it, close to the falls, and failed to gain a footing above, though our men made a gallant and very reckless charge, without having received orders to do so.

"At the present moment we are contenting ourselves with a constant cannonade, and with feints here and there, while our ships, some of which have passed Point Lévis, and run up above the city, drift down during the night, thus making the French think that we may attack at any moment. Prideaux has captured Niagara, which has resulted in a movement of Montcalm's troops, Bougainville having been sent with 1500 men to Cap Rouge, which, you know, is some seven miles west of Quebec, at the end of the ridge which faces the river there, and offers an insuperable barrier to us."

"The one on which we lay hidden for a week, or rather where my friends took me after they had rescued me from prison," broke in Steve. "I remember the ridge well. The heights above are known as the Plains of Abraham."

"You recollect the ridge, sir? How do you mean?" demanded the quartermaster-general suddenly, a faint flush spreading over his face.

"We descended to the river that way," came the answer. "There is a rough path, which we scrambled down during the darkness. A canoe was waiting for us at the bank, and we set off in her. After that we captured a ship and——"

"Stop! One moment!"

To Steve's amazement the quartermaster-general came a step closer, and stared at him with a curious expression of excitement.

"You clambered down that ridge, sir?" he asked. "Up to this we have considered that an impossible feat. Are you sure?"

"Certain. I was a prisoner for some months, and was allowed great liberty. I have scrambled down from the plains many a time, and could clamber up again. What defences do they have there?"

"None. There are fifteen hundred men at Cap Rouge, as I have just explained, and here and there are guards to watch the ridge. But Montcalm believes, just as we have always believed, that to scale those heights is impossible. You could clamber up? You are certain? You could find a place?"

"I am positive," came the swift answer. "Give me a boat in which to run up river and inspect, and I am sure I can find a place."

By now there was little doubt of the excitement into which the officer had worked himself. His face was red and white by turns, his hands were clenched, and he strode to and fro as if he could not remain still.

"I will do it," he said. "The general is ill, very ill, I fear, though he is reported to be a little better this morning. But this is important information, and he must have it at once. Be good enough to accompany me."

He beckoned to Steve, turned, and strode to the river, where there was a boat belonging to one of the men-of-war, fully manned, and at once the officer stepped into her, Steve taking his place beside him.

"Pull for the Montmorenci, lads," he cried. "This is urgent business, and your officer must excuse my taking his boat. Let one of your number stay behind to tell him that the quartermaster-general was compelled to borrow it."

The oars splashed and the boat put off into the river. Then she surged over to the far shore, for the sailors could see that something urgent was afoot. And presently the bows struck the far bank, and Steve found himself walking beside the general to a hut situated in the English camp.

"Tell the general I am here and wish to see him on the most urgent business," said the officer. "I know he is ill, but this news cannot wait."

A minute later Steve was gripping the feeble hand of his old commander, who lay in a camp bed, prostrate with fever. But even though he was ill and suffering he could remember old friends, and at once greeted our hero.

"Our escaped prisoner," he smiled, somewhat wanly, "come at my bidding, but very late, I fear."

"We were delayed, sir," answered Steve. "We feared that we should arrive too late."

"Would that you had, my lad. But Quebec is still not ours, and I have grave doubts about taking it. Montcalm has sixteen thousand men to defend the place, to say nothing of the enormous natural obstacles which aid him. I have seven thousand men, gallant fellows every one, and finely equipped and disciplined. If it were possible they would have captured the city for us by now. But it is not. I see no way out of the difficulty."

"Knowing that, I ventured to bring this young officer with me," said the quartermaster suddenly. "General, Steve Mainwaring was a prisoner at large and knows every foot of the surroundings of Quebec. He can tell you of a place where an attempt might be made."

Wolfe shot up on his couch as if he had been stung, and stared at our hero with blood-shot eyes, which plainly showed the fever from which he was suffering.

"You know of a place!" he cried eagerly. "Where? Where?"

"I mentioned that I had escaped down the cliff which falls from the Plains of Abraham. There are several tracks down it, and one I often used when I was a prisoner is known as the Anse du Foulon. Men could climb there, General, if the place were pointed out to them."

"Will you find it? Will you lead the men there?"

The hollow eyes of the general stared at Steve eagerly, while the sick man sat on the edge of his couch as if about to stand.

"I could," was Steve's emphatic answer, "I or any of the three friends with me, one of whom is my father. If you will give us the order, sir, we will carry out the duty, and will do our best to take a party to the top so as to hold the place. Then others can ascend."

"You shall go at once. The quartermaster-general will make all arrangements for me. You shall be taken aboard one of the sloops of war, and sail up the river. That will allow you to get your bearings. When you have identified the place come back to Point Lévis. I shall be there, and we will make final preparations."

The general dismissed them with a nod, and as they left the hut they heard him calling to his servant.

"A gallant gentleman, cursed with execrable health, but possessed of wonderful spirit and ability," said the quartermaster-general. "Captain, your news will do more for him than any amount of rest or physic. Find this path for him, and our leader will be happy."

Indeed, our hero seemed to have arrived in the very nick of time, and as a result perhaps of his news, the general was soon out of his bed, and making his way from point to point, inspecting the batteries and camps, infusing new spirit into the men, and causing the enemy many a qualm. The news of a possible attempt on the Heights of Abraham was kept a dead secret while Steve was engaged on his search, and every effort made to harass the French. In order to carry out this programme effectively the camp at Montmorenci was broken up, and the troops brought to Point Lévis or to the Isle of Orleans. Then a garrison was selected for these two posts, and all save a regiment of seven hundred men secretly embarked upon the ships of the fleet, the men who remained being posted close to Point Lévis. Thenceforward, for a few days the French had many an alarm, for fleets of boats, filled with troops from the camp at Orleans, or from that at Point Lévis, put off from the bank as if about to make an attack, only, however, to return as promptly, for it must be remembered that they were the only available garrison now for those points. Ships opened fire on the city from various stations, while the fleet massed up by Cap Rouge, and so many feints were made that Bougainville was severely harassed. As for Montcalm, the brave and able commander of the French, he saw in all these feints a projected attempt on the mouth of the St. Charles river, under the very shadow of Quebec, and disposed his troops accordingly.

Meanwhile Steve, his father, and the two trappers had embarked on a sloop, and having sailed during the night up to Cap Rouge, drifted down river on the following day. Twice in succession they repeated the performance.

"I am satisfied now that we have found the place," said our hero, when sent for by the general. "From the river here the land looks so different that at first we were a little uncertain. But we have picked up our bearings, and there can be no doubt. It remains now only to make sure that the enemy is not above, and if they are there, to get such a hold that they cannot drive us down before reinforcements arrive. May we have a canoe, General? and whenever you select the night for the attack, we will slip ashore, find the path, and signal to the men."

"We are ready now," came the answer, for Wolfe was nothing if not eager and impetuous. "But the weather is against us. It is dull and inclined to rain, and that, in my opinion, would spoil our chances. We want a fine night. Return to the sloop, Steve, and when the hour comes I will send for you."

Steve left the general stalking restlessly backwards and forwards in front of his tent, looking wan and ill after his attack of fever. But Wolfe was full of energy and determination. This coming attempt, he felt, was to be his last. It was to be the one great stroke upon which the success of the whole campaign depended, and nothing should cause failure that care and attention beforehand could obviate. He went aboard the fleet, and himself studied the face of that cliff up which his battalions were to clamber. Then he published his orders, gave his final instructions, and sent a short note to Steve.

"The weather is settled now, and the night will be fine," he wrote on the twelfth of September. "Carry out your plan to-night. As soon as it is dark make for the shore, and find this path. When you are sure that you are near it lie close down by the water and listen. My men leave three hours after it is dark. Show them a lantern as they pass you."

That was all. This General Wolfe, a keen organiser himself, was one of those officers who had the happy knack of rapidly discovering the good points of those who served him. Once assured of an officer's discretion, he could give an order and leave it to the officer in question to carry it out in every detail without interference. And now he sent his final orders to Steve, intimating to him that on his discretion depended the success or failure of the whole expedition.

"Then we will make our preparations," said our hero, when he had read the note. "We already have a canoe, and I advise that we put some provisions into her, for the troops may be delayed. We will go alone, and will take knives and tomahawks. A musket might go off accidentally, and in any case we shall be glad to be free of the weight."

"Another o' Steve's 'cute ideas," cried Jim. "This 'ere game as we've got air the biggest I reckon of any as we've ever tackled, 'cos, yer see, ef we make jest the smallest mistake and the French hear us, waal, what's the good of troops? They'll be down upon us at once."

"But not in force," answered Steve quickly. "Remember, Jim, that Montcalm has the majority of his men either in the city or in the Beauport lines. There are men at Cap Rouge, but only posts along the cliff we are to climb. We will find the path, clamber up it, and leave two at the top to watch. If a French sentry should come along and hear the noise made by the men as they disembark, those two must silence him. After that it will take only a few minutes to get some of our fellows up, and then Montcalm will want an army. Our boys will not be turned off the cliff by anything less. Jim, you and Mac will take that post up at the top. Father and I will descend and give the signal."

Darkness had fallen barely more than a quarter of an hour when the party of four prepared to leave the sloop. Those aboard her now knew what was about to happen. Indeed, the English troops aboard the fleet were aware of the attempt about to take place, and were already silently embarking in the boats secured to the ships' sides. As to the French, they still believed that an attack in force was impending at the mouth of the St. Charles, or against the Beauport lines, for the feints of the fleet at Cap Rouge had ceased entirely, while Montcalm did not even suspect that the bulk of Wolfe's army was aboard. There was a curious calm up the river, where there had been so much energy a few days ago, while down stream, at Point Lévis, the guns thundered even more loudly than before, and there was very obvious activity at the camp on the Isle of Orleans. Indeed, perched as they were high up in Quebec, and the ridge on either hand, the French could see every movement of the English, unless cloaked by the darkness. Montcalm had been an attentive watcher, and on this very night his charger stood ready saddled, so that the commander might gallop along the Beauport lines, wherever circumstances might call him. Little did Montcalm think that it was towards the opposite direction that his horse's hoofs would carry him.

"Good luck, boys. Remember we're waiting. Remember that every man aboard the fleet looks to you to-night, and that every mother's son in Old England will sing your praises if you are successful."

The captain of the sloop, a rough old sea dog, gripped each one of the party by the hand as they prepared to step into the canoe. Then he gave Steve a bag containing a dark lantern, flint, and steel.

"Light it ashore," he said earnestly. "Even the best lamp of this sort might show a glimmer, and the French would see it. Get under cover when you strike the flint, lad. Don't forget. Under cover."

There was a faint murmur from the men as Steve dropped gently into the canoe, while the clatter of booted troops lowering themselves into the boats of the fleet came softly to the ear.

"Push off," he whispered. "Out paddles. Jim, take post in the stern."

It was a silent party which floated down the mighty St. Lawrence, for up above there might be many listening ears. The paddles dipped ever so gently, while at the stern Jim sat stolidly, his nerves strung to high tension, for this was new work again, his paddle deep in the river, and his eyes following the faint line of the ridge.

"Put her in. We have floated far enough, and, I think, are nearly opposite. H-u-u-s-h!"

There was a sound high up above the river, and close at hand, for the canoe was now within a few yards of the bank. Then, startlingly loud on this calm night came the voice of a sentry.

"Qui va là? Who goes there? Reply or I fire."

"Be silent. We are a provision boat. You will show the enemy our position."

Quick as thought Steve gave the answer in French, and at once the figure which had stood dimly silhouetted against the clear sky and the stars above disappeared.

"Paddle back a little," whispered Steve, when the man had gone. "Now lie off the bank for a while, dipping your paddles gently. In a few minutes we will drop down again."

They took their frail craft some two hundred yards up stream again, making out into the river as they did so. Then, having allowed some minutes to pass, they struck for the bank again, floated down without using a paddle, and grounded noiselessly. There was no need now for talking. Steve stepped softly ashore, and was followed by his comrades. Together they lifted the canoe, and laid it on the bank some yards from the brink. Then they turned their faces to the cliff, crept over the grass, and between bushes and brambles till they were at its foot, and then separated. Five minutes later they had gathered again at the same spot.

"Struck it, Cap'n," whispered Jim, a thrill of excitement in his usually even voice. "I jest hit nicely on it. Come."

On hands and knees now the four crept along at the foot of the cliff till Jim stopped them. They turned to the left abruptly, and as Steve felt the ground his fingers detected the hollow track which he had used on former occasions when a prisoner at Quebec. They were on it now, Jim leading still, and Mac in rear, clambering through the darkness.

"H-u-u-u-sh! What in thunder air thet?"

Jim spoke in a whisper, and Steve, who followed closely after him, squeezed up to his side. There was a mass of wood and earth clinging to the face of the cliff, and entirely blocking a portion of the zig-zag Anse du Foulon.

"Get round it," whispered Steve, when he had run his fingers over the obstruction. "Quietly! I think I heard someone moving up above."

Creeping to the right, and making use of every possible stump and rock, Jim clambered round the obstruction, and reached the path again. Another minute and he had gained the summit of the cliff, here some two hundred feet in height, and was stretched on the grass which clad the edge. And there the four lay listening for some few minutes.

"There's a sentry or two 'way over thar," whispered Jim, after a little while. "I can hear the tap of his boots, and what's thet?"

"A song. He is doing what many a sentry does to pass the hours of darkness. Humming a little tune all to himself. It's company to a man posted on such a lonely beat. Well, Jim, we'll go. Keep a bright look-out."

Steve and his father slipped from the edge, past Mac and Jim, and groped their way down the steep path. On any other occasion they would have placed their heels against the earth and slid, for the path gave little holding, while its steepness was lessened by the fact that it ran zig-zag across the face of the cliff. But a slide now would bring the sentries to that quarter, and so the two groped their way down till they reached the bottom. Then Mr. Mainwaring unstrapped a blanket which he had carried attached to his back, and he and Steve sat down beneath it, dragging the edges close to the grass. The rasp of a flint on steel followed, and within a few seconds the candle in their dark lantern was alight.

"Close the dark slide now, Steve," whispered Mr. Mainwaring. "I will take charge of the lamp while you watch. Then you can sing out when I am to expose the light. Remember, lad, you are in command of this little party."

He took the lamp and sat down close to the edge of the water, his eye fixed on the dark figure of his son. As for Steve, he stood like a rock, listening intently and watching the river. Ah! A voice broke from the summit of the cliff, the sing-song tones of which he recognised. It was the sentry again.

"Who goes there? Halt, or I fire!"

And almost at once, in the most excellent French, came the answer. "Silence, fool, can you not see that we are provision boats floating down to Quebec. Silence, I say!"

The sentry was satisfied. He shouldered his arm and strode off, complimenting himself on his sharpness. As for the boats which he had detected, they were, in fact, the leading craft of the flotilla which bore our troops, and the officer who answered in such excellent French was a Highlander, sent in advance for the very purpose, in case the necessity to reply to a challenge should arise. The time had come. Steve clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a signal which his father instantly followed. There was the low squeak of the moving slide, and then a pencil of light shot out from the bank, to be extinguished in less than five seconds.

One, two, three, Steve counted the boats as they ran in to the bank and grounded. He ran forward, greeted the officer in command, and then turned to lead them. They reached the cliff, gained the track, and commenced to ascend. Hark! Above the faint noise made by the boots of this advance party, above the deep breathing of the men there came a sharp challenge from above.

"Who is there? Ah! I hear men moving down below, and there are boats. Fire!"

Then followed a sudden shriek, there was the sound of a conflict above, and within a few seconds a body crashed on the path some yards beneath the top of the ridge, rebounded, and fell with a sickening thud to the bank below. At the same instant a shot was fired, while shouts arose in the distance.

"Charge. Up with yer, boys. We've got 'em. There ain't more then a score here. Up yer come, every one of yer."

Jim shouted the words, and as Steve clambered to the top, he came across the trapper standing to his full height, jubilant at the success of the leading party.

"Did yer hear that air varmint strike?" he asked coolly. "Yer did. Then you've nothing more to fear. It air that fellow Jules Lapon, who's come up against us this many times. Reckon he won't be troubling no longer."

Steve had barely time in which to grasp his meaning before the first of the men were up. And after them, struggling up the track and at a hundred and more other spots, came the rest of the troops, excited and eager, fiercely determined to win on this occasion. Reckless of danger, staunch to a man, and with childish confidence in their officers, these gallant fellows gained the heights, paused to gather breath, and then fell into their companies. When the daylight came, Montcalm looked with consternation to the Plains of Abraham. For Wolfe was there with four thousand three hundred seasoned and determined men, who stood eagerly awaiting the expected battle.

Chapter XX
The Plains of Abraham

The sun, rising in all its early autumn splendour on that eventful thirteenth of September, 1759, looked down upon an historic scene which England should never forget. The slanting rays pierced the mists overhanging the side reaches of the St. Lawrence, and slowly disclosed to view the promontory on which the city of Quebec was built, now no longer that fairy place which Steve had known it, but a mangled heap of ruins, with debris of fallen houses, convents, and barracks choking the tortuous streets. The lower portions of the city were gone, while above, where the cannon shot from Point Lévis had failed to reach, the batteries and walls stood out prominently on this fair morning, as defiant as ever, frowning upon the English camp on the Isle of Orleans, and upon the two long plateaux on either hand. There was turmoil in this upper city. Soldiers and civilians were rushing aimlessly about, horsemen galloped from the walls with frantic messages, while Montcalm, that gallant soldier, discussed the situation with the Marquis Vaudreuil, governor of Canada.

The news had just reached the city, and as the French commander looked towards the Plains of Abraham, spying them through his glass, he saw that it was only too true.

"At last," he said, "they have outwitted us, these fine Englishmen and their persevering leader. They are waiting for our soldiers. I must go."

In his own heart Montcalm knew in what a desperate plight he and his force were, for he had already learned that the enemy who had for so long faced the city were trained men, veterans, determined to win.

"We have a breathing space," said General Wolfe, looking haggard on this early morning as he stood surrounded by his officers. "Let the men lie down and eat their rations. And send for Captain Steve Mainwaring and those gallant friends who helped us last night."

He stood, his glass to his eye, watching the distant city and the men bustling about the walls. Then he turned to his own battalions and inspected them critically.

"They will not fail me," he said, in tones of the utmost confidence. "Though they are but a few more than four thousand, they will beat these French. But I must remember that there are enemies in front and behind."

Wolfe was, in fact, in a precarious position, had the French but known it, for by placing his army on the Plains of Abraham, within little more than half a mile of the city, he had wedged his force in between Montcalm's city garrison and the soldiers holding the Beauport lines, and the force, now amounting to over two thousand, which held Cap Rouge under command of Bougainville. These separate bodies of troops might march to attack him at the same moment, and he would find himself assailed in front and rear, a very serious position for so small a force as he possessed. However, to the brave many things are possible, and it happened that Wolfe's daring tactics on this occasion threw the enemy into hopeless confusion. The guards along that ridge where the Anse du Foulon had been ascended rushed with their information to Quebec, shouted the alarm, and caused Montcalm hastily to gather troops from the city and the Beauport lines, where he had imagined the attack would be delivered. In the flurry of the moment no one thought of Bougainville and his men, and while the fate of Canada lay in the balance, this officer remained within six miles of Wolfe's position, ignorant of what had happened, and expecting hourly an attack in force on his own entrenchments. Not till the cannon roared and the volume of musketry fire reached his ear did he gather what was happening, and then it was too late. Even then it is doubtful whether Bougainville would have been right in leaving the post entrusted to him, for cannon were for ever booming in the neighbourhood of Quebec.

"Gentlemen, at such a time I can say little to show my appreciation of your conduct," said General Wolfe as Steve and his comrades ranged up before him and were closely surrounded by the officers. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart, for you have given me and these fine fellows of ours our opportunity. You shall see that we will take the fullest advantage of it."

He shook them each warmly by the hand, and then turned to watch the enemy. As for our hero, he went back to the ranks with burning cheeks, feeling that there was nothing he would not do for his commander.

"There's goin' to be some of the old work to-day," said Jim, as he munched at a hunch of bread which he had brought in his pocket. "Cap'n, set an eye over thar to our left. Do yer see?"

"There are Indians and Canadian irregulars filing off into the bush," came the answer. "They will creep closer, and open fire from the cover. Jim, we will collect a few of the rangers, and do our best to hold those men in check."

A number of scouts and trappers attached to the regulars had returned to camp two days before, and these had only now put in an appearance, having crossed the river with the seven hundred troops left just above Point Lévis. Steve at once went to their leader, pointed out that the enemy were massing their irregulars in the bush to the left of our troops, and asked if he would obtain orders to operate against them.

"Certainly," was the answer. "It is just the work for us."

The stalwart leader of backwoodsmen went off at a run to the general, and very soon the trappers, with Steve, his father, Jim, and Mac, were creeping into the bush. By now Montcalm had gathered some troops together, and had massed them just outside the western wall of the city. At ten o'clock he was ready, and advanced with some three thousand five hundred men, to which some fifteen hundred irregulars must be added, these hanging on to his right flank and making for the thickets and bush and cornfields which lay on Wolfe's left flank.

"The men will load with two bullets, and will reserve their fire till the enemy are at close quarters." The order, issued from the cool leader of our men, went down the ranks, and at once there was the ring and tinkle of ramrods as a second ball was pushed into place. Men powdered their pans and looked to their locks carefully, and then all eyes went to the enemy. They were less than half a mile away, and already their cannon, three of which had been hurriedly brought into position, were plying our ranks with their shot, while from the flank came a hail of bullets, sent by unseen marksmen.

Never in all his after-life could Steve forget that morning and the scene upon which he looked, for he lay at the edge of a scrap of cover replying to the fire of the French irregulars. The French line, consisting of regulars and militia, advanced steadily, firing when they came into range. They were mixed together in a heterogeneous mass, and their shouts and the clatter of their pieces filled the air. Steve watched them closely, and noted that already they were thrown into some confusion, though our troops had not yet fired a shot, for their militia backwoodsmen, once they had fired, threw themselves down on the ground to reload, causing gaps in the ranks. But still they were coming, looking formidable, and as if determined to succeed. Then he gazed at the English troops, and a glow of enthusiasm suffused his cheeks. For our men have won the unstinted praise of everyone for their action on that morning. They were formed in a triple line, and lay on the ground, waiting, while the cannon shot and bullets plunged in amongst them, killing and maiming many. Here and there stood an officer, talking quietly to his men, joking, laughing, keeping their temper in hand, as our officers have always known how to do. But the time for action had come. Wolfe, calm and patient, yet itching to commence operations, walked to the front of the Louisbourg Grenadiers and lifted his cane.

They were up. As one man the English regiments scrambled to their feet, lined up, and brought their pieces down to the charge.

"Remember orders. Men, hold your fire till the word is given."

The officers could be heard calling to the men while they dressed the lines for the coming charge. Ah! Wolfe was advancing. Steve saw him wrapping a handkerchief about his wrist, which had been shattered by a ball. The French were close at hand now. Men could catch the gleam of bayonets, and could see into one another's eyes. But there was not a sound from the English. They still advanced, silent and awe-inspiring. They were within forty yards when the signal was given, officers stepped to the flanks of their companies, a loud command was heard, and in an instant a line of flame spouted from the ranks, while the crash of the muskets sounded more like the discharge of cannon than of smaller weapons. Then, indeed, did our men shout. Their voices deafened the air, for they cheered enthusiastically. As for the French, they were thrown into instant confusion. Huge gaps were torn in their ranks, while men fell in all directions. They stood spellbound for the most part, while some of their militia fled, for this was almost the first time in this momentous campaign that they had stood face to face with our men.

"Load again. Ready. Present! Fire!"

The order went rolling down our thin ranks, and again Steve heard the clink and ring of the ramrods. Then came a second rattling volley, the bullets crashing into the French ranks. Hurrah! Our men were advancing again. The bayonets were breast high, while the broadswords of the Highlanders flashed in the sun. Another shout went down the ranks, and then there was heard the clatter of bayonet on bayonet, the hoarse cheers of Highlanders, and the frantic shouts of New England lads, and men from Old England. The French held their ground for a moment, bravely contesting the path. Then they turned, broke into small parties, and for the most part fled, a few veterans here and there standing shoulder to shoulder to the last.

But where was Wolfe? The Indians and Canadians were flying with their comrades now, and Steve was no longer required on the flank. He slung his musket over his shoulder, and went off at a run till a small gathering of officers attracted his attention. Wolfe, the gallant, lion-hearted officer had been hit in the wrist at the commencement of the action, and afterwards in the groin and through the lung. He was mortally wounded, and called to Lieutenant Browne. "Support me," he cried, "lest my gallant fellows should see me fall."

The officer was too late, and arrived at the general's side to find him on the ground. Then a Mr. Henderson and Colonel Williamson arrived, while Steve came on the scene a second or so later. Together they lifted the poor general and carried him to the rear, where they laid him gently down again, for he was in great pain and almost unconscious.

"They run! See how they run!" cried an officer.

The words seemed to rouse the dying man. "Who run?" he asked eagerly, but with feeble voice.

"The enemy, sir. Egad, they give way everywhere!"

"Go one of you, my lads," said Wolfe, "with all speed to Colonel Burton, and tell him to march down to the St. Charles river and cut off the retreat of the fugitives to the bridge."

Those were almost his last words. Even as he lay dying this fine officer thought of his duty and of his country. He turned on his side, exclaimed, "God be praised, I now die in peace," and becoming unconscious, he died within a few minutes. Wolfe had won fame indeed. His last hours of life had been devoted to the welfare of his country, and this crowning stroke had won Quebec, had wrecked the French power, and given to England another colony, a gem which shines in our crown as brightly as do any. Many and many a winter has come and gone since Wolfe laid down his life on those Plains of Abraham, the maple leaf has gladdened the eye with its wonderful autumn tints on many an occasion, while thousands of our population have blessed the man who helped to win us this fine province. Let England and her sons not forget. It is to devoted heroes such as Wolfe and his officers and soldiers that she owes in great part this flourishing empire over the seas.

Montcalm, the brave commander of the French, was also wounded on this field, and died on the following morning. An obelisk stands now on the heights of Quebec in honour of these two men who won renown on the Plains of Abraham, and pays its tribute to their bravery in the following lines: