eds for which he was noted. Perhaps no other man in
the American army would have dared to do what he did. The remnant of
his famishing soldiers must be saved, and the time was short.

On October 28, he started down the swollen Chaudiere River with only
a few men and without a guide. Sartigan, the nearest French
settlement where provisions could be bought, was nearly seventy miles
away. The swift current carried the frail canoes down the first
twenty miles in two hours. Here through the rapids, there over hidden
ledges, now escaping the driftwood and the sharp-edged rocks, Arnold
and his men wrestled with the angry river.

At one place they plunged over a fall, and every canoe was capsized.
Six of the men found themselves swimming in a large rock-bound basin,
while the angry flood thundered thirty feet over the ledges just
beyond them. The men swam ashore, thankful to escape death.

The last twenty miles was tramped through the wilderness, but such
was the energy of their leader that Sartigan was reached on the
evening of the second day. Long before daybreak, cattle and bags of
flour were ready, and, with a relief party of French Canadians on
horseback, Arnold was on his way back to the starving army.

Four days later, from the famished men in the frozen wilderness was
heard far and wide the joyful cry, "Provisions!" "Provisions!"

{29} The cry was echoed from hill to hill, and along the snow-covered
banks of the great river. The grim fight for life was over. They had
won. How like a pack of famished wolves did they kill, cook, and
devour the cattle!

The next day, two companies dashed through the icy waters of the Du
Loup River, and, shortly afterwards, greeted with cheers the first
house they had seen for thirty days. Six miles beyond, was
Sartigan,--a half dozen log cabins and a few Indian wigwams.

A snowstorm now set in, but the joyful men hastily built huts of pine
boughs, kindled huge camp fires, and waited for the stragglers. The
severe Canadian winter was well begun. It kept on snowing heavily. As
Quebec might be re-enforced at any moment, every captain was ordered
to get his men over the remaining fifty-four miles with all possible
speed.

"Quebec!" "Quebec!" was in everybody's mouth.

Five days later, on November 9, the patriots reached Point Levi, a
little French village opposite Quebec. The people looked on with
astonishment as they straggled out of the woods, a worn-out army of
perhaps six hundre