ing in the
morning sun, a shining mark. A command here, a kindly rebuke there, a
word of encouragement to all ranks; the eyes of Britain and Canada were
upon them; they might have to take the fort by storm,--even so, honour
and glory awaited them.... Forward then, for King and country!

The rat-a-tat-tat of the kettle-drums, the clear-cut whistle of the
fifes, the resonant roll of the big drums, the steady tramp, tramp of
armed men--and the human machine was in motion.

* * * * *

The long grim guns on Fort Detroit and Hull's field-pieces pointed their
black muzzles at the column. Up and down, in front of his men, rode
Isaac Brock.

* * * * *

Now this was more than some flesh and blood could stand. Spurring his
horse, acting Quartermaster-General Nichol reined up alongside his
beloved commander. "General," he said, saluting his leader, while the
soldiers' faces expressed dumb approval, "forgive me, but I cannot
forbear entreating you not to expose yourself. If we lose you, we lose
all. I pray you, allow the troops to advance, led by their own
officers."

"Master Nichol," said Brock, turning in his saddle and returning the
salute of the gallant Quartermaster, "I fully appreciate your kindly
advice, but I feel that, in addition to their sense of loyalty and duty,
there are many here following me from a feeling of personal regard, and
I will never ask them to go where I do not lead."

Before him spread the plain, broken here and there with _coulees_ and
clumps of bush. A partly fenced roadway, with some scattered houses on
the river bank, but no barbed-wire entanglements, impeded his movements.
The introduction of such pleasant devices was left for a higher
civilization!

* * * * *

The column was in motion. The steady onward tramp, tramp of this thin
red line, raw recruit and grizzly veteran shoulder to shoulder, struck
fear into the heart of the unfortunate Hull. The prospect, though his
troops outnumbered the British three to one, was clearly war to the
knife. Brock's meaning was apparent. Should he or should he not accept
the Englishman's challenge? He could extract no comfort out of that
solid scarlet front, bristling with naked steel, now fast approaching in
battle array with even, ominous tread.

* * * * *

The siege-proof walls of the fort lay behind him. His irresolute heart
g