"Halt, fire!"

The aim was well taken. The heavy storm of bullets riddled the men of the attacking force, and some of them fell. Almost at the same moment volleys were fired from the right and left flanks. The combined attack was a surprise and staggered the Southerners.

"Quick, charge!" cried the Colonel. Then the men bounded forward. The irregularity of the ground, the up-hill work, the trees and the snow prevented precision of movement, but with a shout the order was obeyed.

Finding themselves hemmed in on three sides by a larger and better equipped force than their own, the Americans fired another volley and, picking up some of their wounded, beat a retreat.

It was Captain c.u.mmings who commanded the left division, and seeing the direction that the Yankees were taking, he tried to head them off. But the ground was too uneven, and he contented himself with a parting fusilade.

By this time Sir George had reached the summit of the hill, only to find it vacated. On it, however, were several dead bodies, as well as a couple of wounded men whom, in the hurry of retreat, their comrades had deserted. Soon the main body was joined by the flank divisions, and as it was unlikely that the attack would be renewed, the order was given to return to the improvised camp.

In the list of casualties, Corporal Jenkins and a private were killed, while several others, including Lieutenant Smith, were wounded; but it was the loss of Jenkins that grieved his comrades most, for they had not forgotten the death of his wife on the _North King_.

With the bodies of their own men waiting for burial, there was not much mirth at mess that day. Still, they were glad that the fight was over, and that with so little delay they could continue the march. The grave being dug, Jenkins and the dead soldier were sorrowfully consigned by the Chaplain to their last resting-place.

"What about the dead on the hill?" Captain Payne asked of Sir George.

"That's for their comrades to say when we are gone," was his answer.

"But about the prisoner with compound fracture of the leg?" asked Dr.

Beaumont. "He's not in good condition to travel even by sleigh."

"Oh, but he must!" exclaimed Sir George. "The man's alive, and we've got to take him, whether we will or no. What of the other fellow and of our own men?"

"Lieutenant Smith is the worst; he has a serious flesh wound of the forearm, but no broken bones. The other Yankee is suffering more from loss of blood than anything else and able to travel if we can find room for him."

"Well, arrange them as best you can, Doctor, but we must start at once.

Bateese tells me that there is another lumber camp twelve miles further on our way. Perhaps we can reach it to-night."

"Excellent," returned the Doctor. "We can leave our prisoners there, _et maintien le droit_."

The idea was well received by Sir George and, late as it was, they continued the journey. The sun was already sinking in the west, and it would take hours after dark to reach the camp. Still, the march could be accomplished, for the moon was in its second quarter and all danger of renewed attack was believed to be over. The surprised party of untrained invaders already regretted their rashness, for they realized the strength of their opponents as well as the inutility of following them, as every mile now carried them further into Canadian territory.

So the order was given for the sleighs to again take the lead and report as quickly as possible at the lumber camp of the prospective arrival of the troop.

CHAPTER XVIII.

HELEN'S DIARY.

"The Citadel, Quebec, Feb. ----, 1814.

"We arrived at Point Levi two days ago. What a delight it was to be in the vicinity of civilization again! On the other side of the great St.

Lawrence was the famous old city. And how glad I was to drive over the frozen river to this haven of rest. The air was keen, for the smooth ice stretched up and down as far as the eye could see, and the wind from the east was very piercing, but we didn't mind that.

"Now, we are all, officers, men and women, as well as horses and baggage, comfortably lodged and quietly resting. And, although tired, I am already getting glimpses of this historic and venerable place. What a fortress, with its ma.s.sive walls and many gates! What steep ascents!

What quaint churches! What a mighty river, stretched though it be in ice!

"Then to think, as I sit here by this high window, far above the crowds and tinkling sleigh-bells of the lower town, that I am just resting on an oasis for a day or two, before setting out over the desert of ice and snow again.

"Even now the last few weeks are like a dream to me. One of those long, disturbed visions, in which you have to, whether you want to or not.

Every day a definite number of miles to cover; it mattered not how the snow fell or the winds blew, or how intense the cold; whether you slept beneath pine boughs and could see the stars twinkle above you, or whether you had the luxury of sleeping in a woodsman's shanty; it all had to be endured. Thank heaven, the first division of our journey is over, and our little rest will prepare us for the second.

"Harold tells me that the officers of the Citadel say we have made one of the quickest winter marches on record. There is satisfaction in that, even if we did take a month to do it in. I hear, too, that the Commandant of the Citadel has been congratulating the Colonel on the despatch with which he defeated the invaders at Temiscouata. For my part, I think the less said about it the better. It would be a poor thing if two companies of regulars could not put to flight one of raw recruits. It was too bad, though, to lose two of our best men. Poor Jenkins! What a sad fatality! The mother to die and the father to be killed. The silver lining to the terrible climax is that the children were left at home.

"Oh, I must say a word about Lieutenant Smith! He is such a retiring fellow that I knew little about him, although we had travelled together all the way from the London docks. But after he was shot, our sleigh being very comfortable, I proposed to Harold that he should have a seat with me whenever it was not occupied by himself. The consequence is that I have only had an occasional word with my particular friend, Captain c.u.mmings, since the day of the battle, and not a single drive. I was quietly killing two birds with one stone, though n.o.body knew it. But Mr.

Smith's arm is better now--and, forsooth, we may return to the old order of things--unless some other member of the staff should be similarly unlucky.

"Smith is so young a fellow that I felt like mothering him. Fortunately, it was his left arm, and as I sit on the left side of the sleigh the sore arm was between us, protecting it from the pressure of the buffalo robe and also from the cold. The boy is of good family, has high ideals, and wants to win his way to fame. Just the kind of fellow I would like for a friend. And if I am to make my home in Penetang without a single lady to stand by me, and without relatives either, except my dear husband, I may need a true, disinterested friend some time. Who knows?

Yes, and guileless, gentle, brave Lieutenant Smith, the man who was wounded in our first battle, shall be the man.

"Talking of men, there is some one else I want to take right through with us, and that is Bateese. The jolly, genial, conceited, whimsical, but reliable, habitant. But if we take him we must take his wife also.

For days before we arrived here he could talk of little else than his 'femme,' but there was a sad tone about his musical jargon that was unusual.

"'Madame,' he exclaimed one day, after a long silence. 'You not know, Emmiline, mine vife. She live wid me in Kebeck.'

"'I didn't know you had a wife, Bateese.'

"'Oh, oui, married dis two year.' His tone was persuasive.

"'I would like to know her,' I replied.

"'Vell, I will bring her to you. She vas ma fille, bootiful, pet.i.te, so young. Den de cure at Kebeck marry us--seem long tam--still only two year. Den she grow into grand jolie femme. Bime-by she have twins--wan garcon, wan wee leetle gal, pet.i.te an' putty as you nevare see. Mus' I tell you de story? Eet no laughin', eet sad.'

"'Yes, tell me,' I could not but acquiesce.

"'Oh, sacre!' he exclaimed, giving the lazier horse an extra touch of the whip. 'When de hot summare com, Bateese was away drivin' de carryall along de revare down by de sea, de leetle Emmile go sick and die. An'

Emmiline was full of broken heart. Den when de fall came, scarlet fevare steal like de diable after ma leetle Louis--ma cher fils--he die, too.

Ah, mon Dieu! Et nearly kill ma femme, an' it drive Bateese clean crazee. Didn't care a sacre if Yankees lick Cannayans--didn't care how soon I die--didn't care for nuffin! But dat no do. Poor Emmiline lay sick four week in bed--Doctor said nevare get well no more. So Bateese shake hisself and forget de dead babies to tend his leetle wife--say his pater nostra ten times a day--go to church every tam de priest tell him, give medicine all de whole tam. And, by gar, she get well at last. Den Bateese had to leave her an' go on dis long trip to Halifax--an' has not seen her again sence wintare cam.'

"'It is a sad story, Bateese, but you will soon see her now. Where does she live when you are away?' I asked.

"'She stay wid her modare, close by de Abraham plain, where de French General de Montcalm licked de Engleese.'

"He said this with a sly glance out of the corner of his eye, but with a very grave face.

"'I thought it was General Wolfe who licked the French,' was my mild rejoinder.

"'Vas eet? mauvais memoree,' he returned, gently tapping his forehead.

'Vell, dey both die, anyway, and bury in de same grave. Et not much mattare which win. French Cannayans steel have Lower Canady and, by gar, dey always will.' And in spite of his grief for his dead babies, he concluded his narrative with a long, low chuckle to himself.

"It was on this occasion the thought came to me, that if Bateese went with us to Penetang, Emmiline might go in place of the Corporal's wife.

That would give us three women besides myself. Only a small number at best, and, if necessary, I would be willing personally to bear the expense.

"Well, to-day she came up to see me, and I was quite taken with the little French woman. She has a sweet face with a wee touch of sadness in it, owing to the loss of her children. But it is not a face to retain its melancholy. She has a little turn-up nose, rosy lips and bright black eyes, and, like most of these habitant women, an abundance of dark hair. She looks as though she might be very devoted to any one she liked, and I will speak to Harold about it to-day."

"Quebec, Feb. ----, 1814."