ns, and Indians continued to pour across the bridge
of boats, and to cross through the town from the Palais to the St.
John's Gate, whence they issued, and moved off towards the left,
hidden from us by the rising ground.

We stood there hour after hour, forgetful of fatigue and hunger in
our anxiety. We could hear the faint reports of musketry and the
dull growl of cannon, but could not tell whence they came. Soon we
discovered scattered figures stealing along under the shelter of
the hill towards the point of red, and as they drew nearer could
distinguish the blue and grey of our Canadians and the head-dresses
of Indians. At length spurts of smoke began to leap from the bushes
all along the crest of the hill opposite us, extending far beyond
the point where the red had been, and, from the sensible increase
in the firing, we judged the battle had begun.

But about ten o'clock we heard such a general discharge of cannon
and musketry, and marked such instantaneous movement along the line
of skirmishers, that we knew what we had taken for the battle was
but child's play. Suddenly the confused noise and firing were
dominated by one sharp roar like to the clap of a thunder-bolt,
followed by a second, and then by a long rolling fire. To this
succeeded cheers, different from any we had heard before, above
which I caught the shrill skirl of the bagpipes, while a great
cloud of smoke slowly rose and drifted to and fro in the heavy air.

Out of this, on a sudden, burst a screaming mob of men in mad,
death-driven disorder, some sweeping towards the St. John's Gate,
while others plunged down over the side of the hill to gain the
bridge of boats. After them, in as wild pursuit, came the enemy,
foremost of whom were the Highlanders, with flying tartans, shouting
their slogan as they leaped and clambered recklessly down the
hill-side, slashing at the fugitives with their claymores, while
the pipes screamed in maddening encouragement above.

The disaster was so unexpected, so instantaneous, that we could
not comprehend it, and stood there in silent awe absorbed in the
dreadful tragedy before us.

"O ciel! Marguerite! See, there is M. de Maxwell! On the Cote Ste.
Genevieve!" cried Angelique, in a hoarse, strained voice, pointing
as she spake.

The Cote Ste. Genevieve, a long and dangerous descent from the
Heights, beginning near the town, down to the level on which the
Hospital stood, was exposed in all its length not only to th