issary by a peremptory
threat to put him in irons and send him to France if they were not
forth-coming.

Long before our preparations could be made for leaving the town,
the sound of musketry reached us from La Cormorandiere, and we knew
the landing was attempted. I was all impatience to be off, but
our scanty stores could not be risked if the attempt were successful;
so with the others I anxiously awaited the result. But, alas! our
stoutest hopes were dashed by the sight of white uniforms straggling
over the crest of the hill in full flight, and, instead of a hospital
train, I was soon heading a sortie to support the retreat of our
troops, with the cannon thundering over our heads to cover their
entry into the threatened town.

CHAPTER XI

"A FRIEND AT ONE'S BACK IS A SAFE BRIDGE"

One after another our positions were abandoned or driven in, until
the plan of defence by our outlying works entirely failed, and we
were forced to fall back on the sorry defences of the town itself.

Our ships did little or no effective service, and though we succeeded
in closing the mouth of the harbour and were comparatively safe on
that side, the English crept closer and closer, until they hemmed
us in between their ever-contracting lines and the sea.

On the evening of the 8th of July the colonel of the regiment of
Bourgogne called for volunteers, and leaving the town by night,
six hundred strong, we hurled ourselves upon the enemy's southern
line, only to be driven back with heavy enough losses on each side,
and at daybreak to see the English General, Wolfe, in a more advanced
position.

Among the prisoners we carried in with us was a young officer of
the 78th, a Highland regiment.

My services as interpreter were not required, as he spake French
perfectly, so it was not until after his interview with M. de
Drucour that I met him in company with my colonel.

"Chevalier, a countryman of your own, an unwilling guest on our
poor hospitality. Captain Nairn, the Chevalier de Kirkconnel."

We bowed, but I supplemented the courtesy by extending my hand,
for I was in no doubt for a moment as to his identity, his likeness
to his sister Margaret being remarkable.

"Captain Nairn is well known to me," I said, laughing. "I could
even name him more intimately."

"Indeed, and what might that be?" he returned, on his guard.

"Archie."

"God bless my soul! Who are you, sir? I haven't heard that name
for ten years!" he exclaim