ndred "fire pills," as the men called them, against
the granite ramparts and into the town. Even the women laughed at
them, for they did no more harm than so many popguns. The redcoats
kept up the bloodless contest by raking with their cannon the
patriots' feeble breastworks of ice and snow.

Montgomery spoke hopefully to his men, but in his heart was despair.
How could he ever go home without taking Quebec? Washington and
Congress expected it, and the people at home were waiting for it.
When he bade his young wife good-by at their home on the Hudson, he
said, "You shall never blush for your Montgomery." What was his duty
now? Should he not make at least one desperate attempt? Did not Wolfe
{32} take equally desperate chances and win deathless renown? At last
it was decided to wait for a dark night, in which to attack the Lower
Town.

At midnight on the last day of 1775, came the snowstorm so long
awaited. The word was given, and about half past three the columns
marched to the assault. Every man pinned to his hat a piece of white
paper, on which was written the motto of Morgan's far-famed riflemen,
"Liberty or Death!"

Arnold and Morgan, with about six hundred men, were to make the
attack on one side of the town, and Montgomery, with three hundred
men, on the other side.

The storm had become furious. With their heads down and their guns
under their coats, the men had enough to do to keep up with Arnold as
he led the attack. Presently a musket ball shattered his leg and
stretched him bleeding in the snow. Morgan at once took command, and,
cheering on his men, carried the batteries; then, forcing his way
into the streets of the Lower Town, he waited for the promised signal
from Montgomery.

Meantime, the precious moments slipped by, while the young Montgomery
was forcing his way through the darkness and the huge snowdrifts,
along the shores of the St. Lawrence. When the head of his column
crept cautiously round a point of the steep cliff, they came face to
face with the redcoats standing beside their cannon with lighted
matches.

{33} "On, boys, Quebec is ours!" shouted Montgomery, as he sprang
forward.

[Illustration: The Midnight Attack on Quebec]

A storm of grape and canister swept the narrow pass, and the young
general fell dead. In dismay and confusion, the column gave way. The
command to retreat was hastily given and obeyed. Strange to say, so
dazed were the British by the fierce attack that they, too