The journey by water was uneventful; but the portage between the two lakes was hard and trying.  Yet it was nothing compared with the difficulties of the march beyond Lake Saint-Sacrement.  One hundred miles of forest, mountains, rivers, and swamps lay between the troops and the Iroquois villages.  No roads existed, only narrow footpaths interrupted by quagmires, bristling with stumps, obstructed by the entanglement of fallen trees, or abruptly cut by the foaming waters of swollen streams.  Heavily laden, with arms, provisions, and ammunition strapped on their backs, French and Canadians slowly proceeded through the great woods, whose autumnal glories were vanishing fast under the influence of the chill winds of October.  Slipping over moist logs, sinking into unsuspected swamps, climbing painfully over steep rocks, they went forward with undaunted determination.  At night they had to sleep in the open on a bed of damp leaves.  The crossing of rivers was sometimes dangerous.  Tracy, who unfortunately had been seized with an attack of gout, was nearly drowned in one rapid stream.  A Swiss soldier had undertaken to carry him across on his shoulders, but his strength failed, and if a rock had not stood near, the viceroy’s career might have ended there.  A Huron came to the rescue and carried the helpless viceroy to the other side.  The sufferings of the army were increased by a scarcity of food.  The troops were famishing.  Luckily they came upon some chestnut-trees and stayed their hunger with the nuts.

At last, on October 15, the scouts reported that the Mohawk settlements were near at hand.  It was late in the day, darkness was setting in, and a storm of wind and rain was raging.  But Tracy decided to push on.  They marched all night, and in the morning, emerging from the woods, saw before them the first of the Mohawk towns or villages.  Without allowing a moment’s pause, the viceroy ordered an advance.  The roll of the drums seemed to give the troops new strength and ardour; French, Canadians, and Indians ran forward to the assault.  The Mohawks, apprised of the coming attack, had determined beforehand to make a stand and had sent their women and children to another village.  But, at the sight of the advancing army, whose numbers appeared to them three times as great as they really were, and at the sound of the drums, like the voice of demons, they fled panic-stricken.  The first village was taken without striking a blow.  The viceroy immediately ordered a march against the second, which was also found abandoned.  Evidently the Iroquois were terrified, for a third village was taken in the same way, without a show of defence.  It was thought that the invaders’ task was finished, when an Algonquin squaw, once a captive of the Iroquois, informed Courcelle that there were two other villages.  The soldiers pushed forward, and the fourth settlement of the ever-vanishing enemy fell undefended into the hands of the French.  The sun was setting; the exertions of the day and