cannon balls and bullets beat upon them.

His view of the field was blurred, for a while, by the smoke from
so much firing, which floated in thickening clouds over all the
open spaces and the edges of the forest. It produced curious optical
illusions. The French loomed through it, increased fourfold in
numbers, every individual man magnified in size. He saw them lurid and
gigantic, pulling the triggers of their rifles or muskets, or
working the batteries. The cannon also grew from twelve-pounders or
eighteen-pounders into guns three or four times as large, and many
stood where none had stood before.

The smoke continued to inflame his brain also, and it made him pass
through great alternations of hope and fear. Now the army was going to
sweep over the wooden wall in spite of everything. With sheer weight
and bravery it would crush the French and take Ticonderoga. It must
be. Because he wanted it to be, it was going to be. Then he passed
to the other extreme. When one of the charges spent itself at the
barrier, sending perhaps a few men over it, like foam from a wave that
has reached its crest, his heart sank to the depths, and he was sure
the British and Americans could not come again. Mortal men would
not offer themselves so often to slaughter. If the firing died for a
little space he was in deep despair, but his soul leaped up again as
the charge came anew. It was certainly victory this time. Hope
could not be crushed in him. His vivid fancy made him hear above the
triumphant shouts of the French the deep cheers of the advancing army,
the beating of drums and the playing of invisible bands.

All the time, whether in attack or retreat, the smoke continued to
increase and to inflame and excite. It was like a gas, its taste was
acrid and bitter as death. Robert coughed and tried to blow it away,
but it returned in waves heavier than ever, and then he ceased to
fight against it.

The British and American troops came again and again to the attack,
their officers leading them on. Never had they shown greater courage
or more willingness to die. When the first lines were cut down at the
barrier, others took their places. They charged into the vast mass of
fallen trees and against the spikes. Blinded by the smoke of so much
firing, they nevertheless kept their faces toward the enemy and sought
to see him. The fierce cheering of the French merely encouraged them
to new attempts.

The battle went on for hours. It seemed da