ch to a run, and charge with all the
dauntless fury of men fighting for hearth and home. Before the line of
flashing bayonets the invaders break and run. Two hundred have fallen
on each side in an action of less than two hours. Then the boats go on
down to the other half of the army at Cornwall, and here is worse
news,--news that sends {368} Wilkinson's army back to the American side
of the St. Lawrence without attempting attack on Montreal. General
Hampton on his way from Lake Champlain has been totally discomfited.

Finding the way to the St. Lawrence barred by the old raiders' trail of
Richelieu River, Hampton had struck across westward from Lake Champlain
to join Wilkinson on the St. Lawrence, west of Montreal, somewhere near
the road of Chateauguay River. With five thousand infantry and one
hundred and eighty cavalry he has advanced to a ford beyond the fork of
Chateauguay. Uncertain where the blow would be struck, Canada's
governor had necessarily scattered his meager forces.

[Illustration: DE SALABERRY]

To oppose advance by the Chateauguay he has sent a young Canadian
officer, De Salaberry, with one hundred and fifty French Canadian
sharp-shooters and one hundred Indians. De Salaberry does not court
defeat by neglecting precautions because he is weak. Windfall is
hurriedly thrown up as barricade along the trail. Where the path
narrows between the river and the bleak forest, De Salaberry has tree
trunks laid spike end towards the foe. At the last moment comes
McDonnell of Brockville with six hundred men, but De Salaberry's three
hundred occupy the front line facing the ford. McDonnell is farther
along the river. By the night of October 25 the American army is close
on the dauntless little band hidden in the forest. On the morning of
the 26th three thousand Americans {369} cross the south bank of the
river, with the design of crossing north again farther down and
swinging round on De Salaberry's rear. At the first shot of the
bluecoats poor De Salaberry's forlorn little band broke in panic fright
and fled, but De Salaberry on the river bank had grabbed his bugle boy
by the scruff of the neck with a grip of iron, and in terms more
forcible than polite bade him "sound--sound--sound _the advance_," till
the forest was filled with flying echoes of bugle calls. McDonnell
behind hears the challenge, and mistaking the cheering call for note of
victory, bids his buglers blow, blow advance, blow and cheer