said the colonel, addressing the sergeant’s brother-conspirator, “bring a pair of handcuffs, put them on this sergeant, lock him up in a cell, and bring me the key.”  This, too, was done.  “Now, corporal, you come here; lay down your arms, take off your accoutrements, and lay them down also.”  He was obeyed.  Turning to the right man of the guard, “Come here, you grenadier.  Bring a pair of handcuffs and put them on this corporal, lock him up in another cell, and bring me the key.”  When this was done, turning to the astounded drummer, our hero said, “Drummer, beat to arms.”

The garrison was aroused.  First to rush out was Lieutenant Williams, sword in hand.  “Williams!” said the Colonel, “go instantly and secure Rock”—­a former sergeant, recently reduced.  “If he hesitates to obey, even for one second, cut him down.”  Up the stairs flew Williams, calling to Rock to come down.  “Yes, sir,” answered Rock, “when I take my arms.”  “You must come without them,” said Williams.  “Oh, I must have my arms, sir,” and as Rock stretched out his hand to seize his musket in the arm-rack, Williams shouted, “If you lay one finger on your musket I will cut you down,” at the same time drawing his sabre.  “Now, go down before me.”  Rock obeyed, was placed in irons, and within half an hour Clark, O’Brien, and nine other mutineers were embarked for York on the schooner.

What a picture rises before us.  The mid-day sun, the glittering barrack-square, the scarlet and white tunics and polished side-arms of the frightened soldiers, with Brock, the embodiment of power and stern justice, towering above the shrinking culprits.  Expiation of the offence had yet to follow.  The appetite of the law had to be appeased.  The trial took place at Quebec.  Four mutineers and three deserters were condemned to death, and in the presence of the entire garrison were executed.  The details of this are best unwritten.  Through a shocking blunder, the firing party discharged their carbines when fifty yards distant, instead of advancing to within eight yards of the victims.  The harrowing scene rent Brock’s heart.  That the men who had fought so bravely under him at Egmont and laughed at the carnage at Copenhagen should end their lives in this manner was inexpressibly sad.  After reading the account of the execution of their comrades to the men on parade at Fort George, Brock added, “Since I have had the honour to wear the British uniform I have never felt grief like this.”  The prisoners publicly declared that had they continued under our hero’s command they would have escaped their doom, “being the victims of unruly passions inflamed by vexatious authority.”

When Brock assumed command every possible privilege was extended to the troops at Fort George.  For every request, however trivial, he knew there was some reason.  His mind was big enough to trade in trifles.

In view of these desertions, the prospect of hostilities between Canada and the United States became a momentous one.  By close study of events in France and America and intercourse with prominent United States citizens, Brock detected the signs that precede trouble.