the French guns to be got into
position, and were a perfect nuisance to the regular soldiers, as
they worked with intrepid industry at their trenches and mounds.
But before long even the Indians were satisfied with the prolonged
roar of artillery, which lasted day after day, day after day;
whilst within their walls the brave but diminished garrison looked
vainly for succour, and examined with a sinking heart their
diminished store of ammunition and their cracked and overheated
guns.

"It cannot go on long like this," the officers said one to the
other. "What is the General doing over yonder? He must hear by the
heavy firing what straits we are in. He knows the condition of the
fort. He should risk and dare everything to come to our aid. If
this fort is lost, then our western frontier has lost its only
point of defence against the inroads of Indians and the
encroachments of France."

A few days later and a cry went up from the walls, "A white flag! a
white flag!" and for a moment a wild hope surged up in the hearts
of the soldiers that the enemy had grown tired of the game of war,
and had some proposal to make.

The messenger brought a letter. It was not from the French
commander himself, though it was delivered with a courteous message
from him. It had been found upon the body of a white man slain by
the Indians a few days before, and brought to the French camp. The
Marquis de Montcalm had read it, and sent it now to the person for
whom it was intended.

"Give my thanks," said Monro, "to the Marquis for his courtesy, and
tell him that it is a joy to me to have to do with so generous a
foe."

But the letter thus received was one of evil omen to the hapless
garrison. It came from General Webb, and repeated that, until
reinforced from the provinces, he could do nothing for the garrison
of Fort William Henry; and advised Colonel Monro to make the best
terms that he could with the enemy, who were plainly too strong for
him to withstand.

It was time indeed for the gallant little garrison to think of
surrender. Men and officers stood in knots together gloomily
surveying the scene.

"We have done what men can do," said Captain Pringle to his friends
Fritz and Roche; "but where are we now? A third of our men are sick
and wounded. Almost all our big guns are burst. The enemy's
trenches are being pushed nearer and nearer, and there are still
more of their guns to be brought to bear. Our wall is breached; I
marvel the