The chance was small that this letter would reach its destination; and in fact the bearer was killed by La Corne’s Indians, who, in stripping the body, found the hidden paper, and carried it to the General.  Montcalm kept it several days, till the English rampart was half battered down; and then, after saluting his enemy with a volley from all his cannon, he sent it with a graceful compliment to Monro.  It was Bougainville who carried it, preceded by a drummer and a flag.  He was met at the foot of the glacis, blindfolded, and led through the fort and along the edge of the lake to the entrenched camp, where Monro was at the time.  “He returned many thanks,” writes the emissary in his Diary, “for the courtesy of our nation, and protested his joy at having to do with so generous an enemy.  This was his answer to the Marquis de Montcalm.  Then they led me back, always with eyes blinded; and our batteries began to fire again as soon as we thought that the English grenadiers who escorted me had had time to re-enter the fort.  I hope General Webb’s letter may induce the English to surrender the sooner."[516]

[Footnote 516:  Bougainville, Journal.  Bougainville au Ministre, 19 Aout, 1757.]

By this time the sappers had worked their way to the angle of the lake, where they were stopped by a marshy hollow, beyond which was a tract of high ground, reaching to the fort and serving as the garden of the garrison.[517] Logs and fascines in large quantities were thrown into the hollow, and hurdles were laid over them to form a causeway for the cannon.  Then the sap was continued up the acclivity beyond, a trench was opened in the garden, and a battery begun, not two hundred and fifty yards from the fort.  The Indians, in great number, crawled forward among the beans, maize, and cabbages, and lay there ensconced.  On the night of the seventh, two men came out of the fort, apparently to reconnoitre, with a view to a sortie, when they were greeted by a general volley and a burst of yells which echoed among the mountains; followed by responsive whoops pealing through the darkness from the various camps and lurking-places of the savage warriors far and near.

[Footnote 517:  Now (1882) the site of Fort William Henry Hotel, with its grounds.  The hollow is partly filled by the main road of Caldwell.]

The position of the besieged was now deplorable.  More than three hundred of them had been killed and wounded; small-pox was raging in the fort; the place was a focus of infection, and the casemates were crowded with the sick.  A sortie from the entrenched camp and another from the fort had been repulsed with loss.  All their large cannon and mortars had been burst, or disabled by shot; only seven small pieces were left fit for service;[518] and the whole of Montcalm’s thirty-one cannon and fifteen mortars and howitzers would soon open fire, while the walls were already breached, and an assault was imminent.  Through the night of the eighth they fired briskly from all their remaining pieces.  In the morning the officers held a council, and all agreed to surrender if honorable terms could be had.  A white flag was raised, a drum was beat, and Lieutenant-Colonel Young, mounted on horseback, for a shot in the foot had disabled him from walking, went, followed by a few soldiers, to the tent of Montcalm.