The long, heavy-skirted coats which the soldiers wore, both regulars and provincials, excited his ridicule, as did also the long hair plaited into a queue behind and tied with ribbons.

His own hair he had long since cut short to his head—­a fashion speedily imitated by officers and men alike, who all adored him.  He suggested that skirtless coats would be more easy to march in than the heavy ones in vogue, and forthwith all the skirts were cut off, and the coats became short jackets, scarcely reaching the waist.

The men laughed at their droll appearance, but felt the freedom and increased marching power; and as Lord Howe wore just such a coat himself, who could complain?  He wore leggings of leather, such as were absolutely needful to forest journeys, and soon his men did the same.  No women were to be allowed to follow his contingent; and as for washing of clothes, why, Lord Howe was seen going down to the river side to wash his own, and the fashion thus set was followed enthusiastically by his men.

If their baggage was cut down to a minimum, they were each ordered to carry thirty pounds of meal in a bag; so that it was soon seen that Lord Rowe’s contingent could not only walk further and faster in march than any other, but that it would be independent of the supply trains for pretty nearly a month.  They carried their own bread material, and the forest would always supply meat.

Fritz was ever forward to carry out the wishes and act as the right hand of the hardy Brigadier; for that was Lord Howe’s military rank.  Pringle and Roche served under him, too, and there was a warm bond growing up betwixt officers and men, and a feeling of enthusiasm which seemed to them like an augury of victory to come.

“Our business is to fight the foe—­to do our duty whether we live or die,” Howe would say to his men.  “We have failed before; we may fail again.  Never mind; we shall conquer at last.  With results the soldier has nothing to do.  Remember that.  He does his duty.  He sticks to his post.  He obeys his commands.  Do that, men; and whether we conquer or die, we shall have done our duty, and that is all our country asks of us.”

And now the long days of June had come, and all were eager for the opening campaign.  Ticonderoga was to be attacked.  To wrest from the French some of their strong holds on the western English border—­to break their power in the sight of the Indians—­was a thing that was absolutely necessary to the life of the New England colonies and the other provinces under English rule.  Fort Edward still remained to her, though Oswego and William Henry had fallen and were demolished.  The capture of Ticonderoga would be a blow to France which would weaken her immensely, and lower her prestige with the Indians, which was now a source of great danger to the English colonists.

The story of the massacre after the surrender of Fort William Henry had made a profound impression throughout the English-speaking provinces, and had awakened a longing after vengeance which in itself had seemed almost like an earnest of victory.  And now the regular troops began to muster and pour in, and Albany was all excitement and enthusiasm; for the Dutch had by that time come to have a thorough distrust of France, and to desire the victory of the English arms only less ardently than the English themselves.