“If war is a horrible thing,” said Julian reflectively to Humphrey, “it has at least its grand sights.  Look at the red glare upon the shifting fog banks!  Is it not like some wild diabolic carnival?  One could fancy one saw the forms of demons flitting to and fro in all that reek and glare.”

Humphrey’s grave young face wore a rather stern look.

“I have seen other fires than that, and heard of those I have not seen—­fires the memory of which will live in my heart for years and years!  If we burn the vessels of the French, is it not because they have hounded on the Indians to burn our homesteads, ay, and with them our defenceless wives and children, mothers and sisters?  Shall not deeds like these bring about a stern retaliation?  Are we not here to take vengeance upon those who have been treacherous foes, and shamed the Christian profession that they make?  Shall we pity or spare when we remember what they have done?  The blood of our brothers cries out to us.  We do but repay them in their own coin.”

“Yes,” returned Julian thoughtfully; “there is a stern law of reaping and sowing ordained of God Himself.  We may well believe that we are instruments in His hands for the carrying out of His purpose.  Yet we must seek always to be led of Him, and not to take matters into our own hands.  ’Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.’”

“I believe He will,” said Humphrey, with a flash in his eyes; “but give it to me to be there to see!”

“As I think we shall,” answered Julian, “for I believe that the key of the war will lie next at Quebec.  Whoever holds that, holds the power in Canada, and from Canada can command the western frontier.  And the taking of Quebec is the object upon which the mind of Wolfe is firmly set.  You know how often he has said to us, ’If I could achieve that, I could say my Nunc Dimittis with joy and thankfulness.’  I believe in my heart that he will live to see that glorious victory for England’s arms.”

Wolfe was waiting upon the strand for the boat which brought Julian and Humphrey back with the details of the victorious enterprise.  He grasped them both by the hand.

“Now I think that surrender cannot much longer be delayed, and, in truth, I hope it will not be.  News has reached us from the west of some great disaster at Ticonderoga.  It is but the voice of rumour.  A light fishing smack brought letters to the General this evening, dated from Albany, and sent by special messenger.  Nothing definite is known; but they report a disastrous defeat, attributed to the untimely death of Lord Howe quite early in the expedition.  I cannot say what truth there may be in this, but I fear some great disaster has recently taken place.  It has made the General and his officers very stern and resolved.  England’s honour has been sorely tarnished by these many defeats.  But I believe her star will rise again.  Louisbourg at least must fall ere long.”