hat day of preparation and thought a gentle
quietude of manner possessed him, and struck all with whom he came
in contact.

Even when at last all was in readiness and the General in one of
the foremost boats was drifting silently down the dark river, with
the solemn stars overhead, it was not of battles or deeds of daring
that he spoke with those about him. After the silence of deep
tension his melodious voice was heard speaking words that fell
strangely on the ears of the officers clustered about him.

"The curlew tolls the knell of parting day" spoke that voice; and
in the deep hush of night the whole of that "Elegy" was softly
rehearsed in a strangely impressive manner, a thrill running
through many at the words:

"The paths of glory lead but to the grave."

When the recitation was over there was a long, deep silence, broken
at last by Wolfe himself, who said:

"Gentlemen, I would rather have written that poem than take
Quebec!"

Chapter 4: In The Hour Of Victory.

"Qui vive?"

It was the French sentry upon the shore, as the boats glided slowly
by in the darkness. Julian was waiting for the challenge, and was
ready with the answer.

"France!"

"A quel regiment?" came the voice again.

"De la Reine," answered Julian, who had not spoken in vain with the
deserting Canadians, and knew a good deal about Bougainville's
camp. Then afraid of being asked the password, he hastily added,
still speaking French, "Have a care; the English will hear us! The
provision boats from the camp!"

That hint was enough. The sentry knew that provision boats were
expected, and that English vessels were anchored not far off. He
let the fleet of English boats pass by in the darkness.

The strong current swept them along. Now they had reached the
appointed place--passed it, indeed before they could get out of the
current; but there was a narrow strand, wide enough for
disembarkation, and the band of picked men who had volunteered for
the task were already out, preparing to scale the lofty heights and
see what lay beyond.

Up they went in the close darkness of the autumn night, the
four-and-twenty selected men leading the way, closely followed by a
larger band of comrades. No word was spoken, no cry was raised. The
tense excitement of the moment seemed to preclude any such
demonstration. It was believed that at this point there would be
little resistance. There was no sentry on the shore, and no
appearance of any camp