“I would that Charles could have lived to see the day when the English should enter the city of Quebec!”

He spoke beneath his breath; but Fritz heard him, and answered with thoughtful gravity: 

“Perhaps it were not true kindness to wish him back.  His death blow was struck when his wife and children perished.  The days which remained to him were days of sorrow and pain.  The light of his life, the desire of his eyes, had been taken away.  He lived but for an act of vengeance, and when that was accomplished, I believe he would have faded out of life had it not been that his own life was extinguished at the same time as that of his foe.”

Humphrey made a silent sign of assent.  He could not speak much even yet of the tragic fate of his brother, or of the events which had led to it.  Fritz turned the subject by speaking of John Stark and the Rangers, asking Humphrey what had been known of them since the breaking-up of the band after the disaster of Ticonderoga.

“I saw Stark,” answered Humphrey eagerly.  “Have I not told you before?  Ah well, we have not much time for talking these busy days.  Yes, I saw Stark; he came to visit his kinsfolk of the inn when I was in Philadelphia.  He has gone now with Amherst’s party.  He will join Rogers, I suppose; and, doubtless, the Rangers will again do good service, as they do everywhere.  He was in half a mind to come north with the expedition for Quebec, but decided that he would be of more use in country every foot of which was familiar to him.  But he declared that, if once Ticonderoga were to fall, he would bring us the news faster than any other messenger.  How he will come, and by what route, I know not; but this I know, that if there is a victory for English arms yonder in the west, and if John Stark be not killed, the sight of his face amongst us here will be the sign to us that the victory has been won.”

“And right welcome will be the sight of his face,” cried Fritz, “be his news what it may.  John Stark is one of the best and bravest men I know.  I have told our General many a tale of him and his prowess.  Wolfe will have a welcome for him if he ever appears here.”

Wolfe seemed to have finished his survey.  He took the glass from his eye and looked round him.  Moncton was at his side in a moment.  He, in common with all who fought with and under him, had a great admiration for the gallant young General.

“Moncton,” said Wolfe, in a voice loud enough for the other three to hear plainly, “I want to get some ships past the city into the upper reach of the river.  The French General will not fight.  I give him chance after chance against me, but he does not take it.  He thinks a waiting game will serve his turn best, and perhaps he is right.  But we must leave no stone unturned to harass and perplex him.  I want a footing in the upper reach of the river.  I want to get some vessels past the town.”

Moncton drew his lips together in a silent whistle.