bb was setting in. Far
off, down-stream, at Fort Niagara, the American fire
began to falter and gradually grow dumb. But at the
British Fort George opposite the guns were served as well
as ever, till they had silenced the enemy completely.
While this was happening, the main garrison, now free to
act elsewhere, were marching out with swinging step and
taking the road for Queenston Heights. Near by, at
Lewiston, the American twenty-four-gun battery was
slackening its noisy cannonade, which had been comparatively
ineffective from the first; while the single British gun
at Vrooman's, vigorous and effective as before, was
reinforced by two most accurate field-pieces under Holcroft
in Queenston village, where the wounded but undaunted
Dennis was rallying his disciplined regulars and Loyalist
militiamen for another fight. On the Heights themselves
the American musketry had slackened while most of the
men were entrenching; but the Indian fire kept growing
closer and more dangerous. Up-stream, on the American
side of the Falls, a half-hearted American detachment
had been reluctantly sent down by the egregious Smyth;
while, on the other side, a hundred and fifty eager
British were pressing forward to join Sheaffe's men from
Fort George.

As the converging British drew near them, the Americans
on the Heights began to feel the ebbing of their victory.
The least disciplined soon lost confidence and began to
slink down to the boats; and very few boats returned when
once they had reached their own side safely. These slinkers
naturally made the most of the dangers they had been
expecting--a ruthless Indian massacre included. The
boatmen, nearly all civilians, began to desert. Alarming
doubts and rumours quickly spread confusion through the
massed militia, who now perceived that instead of crossing
to celebrate a triumph they would have to fight a battle.
John Lovett, who served with credit in the big American
battery, gave a graphic description of the scene: 'The
name of Indian, or the sight of the wounded, or the Devil,
or something else, petrified them. Not a regiment, not
a company, scarcely a man, would go.' Van Rensselaer went
through the disintegrating ranks and did his utmost to
revive the ardour which had been so impetuous only an
hour before. But he ordered, swore, and begged in vain.

Meanwhile the tide of resolution, hope, and coming triumph
was rising fast among the British. They were the attackers
now; they had o