University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.
THE COUNCIL.

On the evening of the thirteenth of December,
the combined divisions of the invading army under
General Montgomery, amounting, with the addition
of a few Canadians who had joined the American
standard, to about twelve hundred effective men,
had been encamped several days before Quebec.
Although they had immediately laid siege to it and
erected a battery against its walls, they had not
yet obtained any important successes. For several
days they had endured the excessive hardships to
which the rigour of a Canadian winter peculiarly
exposed them, yet continued to labour in erecting
works and completing the preparations for a vigorous
siege with unabated courage and unshaken
determination.

Nevertheless, General Montgomery feared they

would sink under their fatigue, however great their
fortitude and capability of endurance. He was also
apprehensive that he might soon be abandoned by
the majority of his soldiers, whose term of enlistment
had expired at Montreal, and whom admiration
for his courage, and a certain pride they felt in
following a brave and successful leader, united with
his own powers of persuasion, had induced to volunteer
their aid in the capture of Quebec. Impressed,
therefore, with the importance of taking an
immediate and decisive step before circumstances
should deprive him of the liberty of acting, he came
to the gallant resolution to make an immediate assault
upon the place with his whole force, “And,”
he said, his eyes kindling as he spoke of his determination
to his young aiddecamp, “lead them in
person to victory or death. But,” he added, more
desponding, taking the arm of his young friend, as
they were walking together before the walls, selecting
a point of attack, “my hardy little army is
composed of such discordant materials, that individual
exertions can accomplish but very little. I
hold my men by no legal authority; and, if they see
fit, they can leave me if I venture to suggest a
proposition which must ensue in much bloodshed.
But the only alternative left us is to raise the siege,
and retreat the best way we can.”

“I trust that alternative will never for a moment
be entertained by a single man in our camp,” said
the aid, impetuously.

“They will not think of it, my dear major, I am
assured. They are brave and patriotic, and, I believe,
also too much attached to my person to desert
me. But I did not come before the walls of Quebec
to retreat from them. I will either succeed in
the enterprise I contemplate, or leave my body before
its gates. I will forthwith summon a council

of my officers and consult with them, and afterward
address the troops. From them I anticipate
less opposition than from their commanding officers.”

“It were better to die like soldiers,” said Burton,
with animation, “than be picked from the walls
like wild beasts, as our men daily are, or have our
bodies paralyzed by frost and our spirits broken by
this fruitless and idle siege. How have you decided
to make the attack?”

“Assault both the Upper and Lower Towns at
the same time. I will detail my plan more fully in
council. I dare not think how my proposition will
be received there. In you, Burton, I shall have at
least one faithful coadjutor?”

“I will second you with my life!” answered the
young officer, promptly.

“Not thy life, my gallant youth,” said the general,
smiling and turning from him to enter his tent;
“not thy life, but thy voice only I require to aid
me in the council I shall presently invite to discuss
this matter. Alas,” he added, with a melancholy
expression, “life will soon enough be poured out!
God spare the youthful and brave for our country!”

Burton passed slowly on towards his own tent,
impressed with the sad look with which his general
uttered the last words, which seemed to convey
an omen of coming evil, when his attention
was arrested by the figure of a man, indistinctly
seen through the twilight, gliding along by the foot
of a low wall bounding the field. His eye followed
him till he saw him disappear in the moat and
shortly after reappear on the opposite side at the
foot of a bastion, and with rapid strides approach
the city gate. At this point there was no sentinel
posted; and Burton, struck with mingled curiosity
and suspicion, by changing his route and quickening

his pace, crossed the moat higher up and intercepted
him. He was a tall, stoutly-framed man,
wrapped to the eyes in a short Scottish plaid; but
the skirt of a gray capote and moccasins visible
beneath, and the addition of a fur bonnet, betrayed
the wearer to be a Canadian peasant. He carried
no arms, nor did he assume a hostile attitude. He
took long strides across the level ground, and his
object seemed to be to gain the American camp by
the most direct course, and with the best speed he
could exert.

“Stand, sir!” said Burton; grasping a pistol as
he confronted him.

The stranger started back a pace, as if he had
now for the first time observed him, and then said, in
a rough, bold voice.

“Be not too hasty with thy pistolet, good sir.
I am a true man, and as piously-disposed a rebel
as the devil himself.”

“How now, villain? what means this insolence?”
demanded the young soldier, sternly, at the same
time levelling his pistol at the man's breast.

“An hour ago I was a volunteer under Carleton,”
said the man, less rudely, “but I have taken
a leap over the wall, and now, by my beard! seek
to become an honest rebel.”

“A deserter from the citadel?”

“Ay, master, and was on my way to your camp
when you came across my path without any other
hint than the click of that pistolet in my ear.”

“And thank your stars 'twas not accompanied
with a bullet through your body. Till you satisfy
General Montgomery that you are what you affirm,
I shall detain you prisoner. Pass on before me to
the lines, and, as you value your life, make no attempt
to escape.”

Preceded by his prisoner, Burton advanced to

the camp, and there delivering him to the guard,
with orders to conduct him immediately to the
quarters of General Montgomery, he sought his
own quarters.

About eight o'clock the same evening, the commander-in-chief
was seated alone in his tent before
a rude table covered with letters, maps, and a plan
of the fortifications of Quebec, the last of which he
was inspecting with great attention. A single candle
cast a dim light through the tent, which contained,
besides the table, several camp-stools, and
half a dozen buffalo hides thrown loosely on the
ground to protect the feet from the snow. He had
just laid aside his mathematical instruments, and,
with his forehead resting upon his hand, given
himself up to deep thought, when his servant, lifting
the curtain, announced Captain M`Pherson, who
immediately entered.

This officer was a tall, gentlemanly-looking man,
with a fine military air, a calm, fearless eye of the
most transparent blue, a Saxon complexion, and a
frank and extremely pleasing mode of address.

“Be seated, captain,” said the general, rising and
courteously bowing; “I have called you from your
arduous duties in the field to ask your advice respecting
a plan I have in contemplation for bringing
this dull siege to a close. What say you to risking
an assault?”

“An assault, General Montgomery?” repeated
the officer, his clear eyes dilating with pleasure,
and rising and speaking with enthusiasm; “is such
indeed your intention?”

“It is, even if I can get no more than a score of
brave men to follow me,” replied the chief, firmly.

“One of them shall be M`Pherson.”

“I knew it, captain. I felt sure of you. If all
my officers carried your ready spirit in their hands,

our success would be certain. I was confident
that my proposition would meet your views.”

“Exactly, general. I am tired thrashing my
arms against my ribs to keep the blood in circulation.
I would much prefer exercising them on the
enemy, who have a legitimate title to keep my
fingers warm. When do you make the assault?”

“To-morrow morning, at five o'clock.”

“To-morrow morning! better still. To-morrow
noon, then, we will dine in Quebec. I am told the
burghers keep good wines. Have you matured
your plan of attack?”

“Fully. I have—”

At this moment a second officer was announced,
by the name and title of Captain Cheesman. His
air and appearance were those of a country gentleman,
who had laid aside his hunting-whip to grasp
the sword. His eyes evinced coolness and decision
to be the prominent attributes of his character.
As he entered he saluted the gentlemen in a bluff,
hearty tone, and with a familiar nod, while a smile
of good-humour, which seemed to be quite at home
on his well-shaped lips, at once prepossessed the
beholder in his favour.

This gentleman heard with pleasure the plan of
the proposed assault, and assented to its expediency.
“But what says Colonel Arnold?” he asked.

The officer he named, accompanied by Burton
and several other officers, at this moment came in.
The appearance of Colonel Arnold was that of a
courtly soldier. His person was manly and well-formed,
but slightly inclined to portliness. In his
attire, which was, nevertheless, exceedingly rich, he
was careless, like one who felt the duties of the field
to be both his pride and apology. A large and costly
brilliant sparkled on his little finger, and his hair

was profusely powdered in the fashion of the day.
His address was easy, and oftentimes bland to fawning.
His mouth habitually wore a smile which invited
confidence, while the restless expression of his
eyes betokened active suspicion. His features were
handsome, and his voice agreeable; yet there lurked
at all times, in every look and under every word he
uttered, a hidden meaning, which gave to his countenance,
however externally agreeable, a wily and
forbidding cast, prepossessing unfavourably all men
of sagacity and acute perception of character.

With a cold eye and a smile about his mouth
he acknowledged the salutations of General Montgomery
and the gentlemen present, and, seating
himself near the former, yet a little aloof from those
around him, as if wishing to observe without being
observed, he silently watched the faces and feelings
of all present.

“Gentlemen,” said General Montgomery, after
the council of officers was seated around the table,
rising and speaking with great dignity, “I have
invited you to my tent to consult with you on the
expediency of adopting more decisive measures
than we have done, and such as will ensure a successful
termination to this prolonged siege. Our
object is the capture of Quebec, and to accomplish
this we must be ready to sacrifice life, but not
honour. Permit me to urge, that the present mode
of conducting the siege is not such as becomes
men whose arms have hitherto been victorious,
and to whom honour should, therefore, be more
peculiarly dear. The bold attitude we have assumed
before this city has drawn all eyes upon
our little army. High expectations, founded, I
trust not unadvisedly, on the gallantry you have
already shown, are entertained throughout America
of the successful result of this expedition, and God

forbid that deficiency in energies, or any want of
promptness in action, should disappoint these hopes.
The territory of Canada, even to the gates of Quebec,
is already ours. This post in our hands, and
the arms of the northern army will be crowned
with the most brilliant successes that have marked
the present age. Great Britain, weakened by the
loss, will more willingly listen to our remonstrances,
and extend to us that justice for which we are now
in arms against her; we ourselves, proportionably
strengthened by the addition, will be able to contend
with her arms more equally, and, in case it
should ultimately come to this, cast off our allegiance
and assert our independence in a more imposing
manner.

“I admit, gentlemen, that the garrison, through
the vigilance of Governor Carleton, is already increased
to fifteen hundred men, and that we have
but three fourths of that number to encounter this
force. But unwavering courage, firmness, and
entire confidence in the justice, I might say sacredness,
of the cause in which we are enlisted, will
assuredly balance this inequality of numbers. I
am now about to suggest a plan to you, gentlemen,
which not only will terminate this inactive and
tedious siege, but, I confidently assure you, place
us in possession of the city. That your cheerful
and ready assent will be obtained to the meditated
measure, I have no doubt. The enemy, encouraged
by our apathy, have become, as I have learned
from a deserter who came to-night into camp, careless
and secure. Anticipating, from our mode of
operations, a protracted siege, they will be, in a
measure, unprepared for any important and sudden
change in our tactics. It is, therefore, my determination,
gentlemen,” added he, slowly and decidedly,
while his eye moved deliberately from face

to face around the circle, “it is my determination
to risk an assault.”

“It is madness to think of it!” exclaimed Colonel
Arnold, who had listened with no little impatience
to this harangue, starting to his feet on hearing
the last word; “there cannot be eight hundred
effective men led against the walls, and not one
third of these without their free consent. They
are, moreover, dispirited by the strength of a post
which they expected to find entirely defenceless.
There are not one hundred pairs of shoes in the
whole army.”

“So much the better, colonel,” observed Captain
M`Pherson, dryly; “the men can climb the walls
with greater facility, as doubtless thou hast heard
orangoutangs do ascend trees.”

A dark frown was the only reply to this observation;
and, avoiding the cool eye of the captain,
Colonel Arnold continued,

“But I can advise, perhaps, no better plan,
General Montgomery, than this you have proposed.
If you will find men in sufficient force to redeem
this enterprise from anything like a Quixotic complexion,
I will lead them. How have you arranged
the plan of attack?”

“It is here.”

As he spoke, General Montgomery unrolled and
spread on the table before him a chart covered with
lines of fortifications.

“My plan,” he added, after the other officers
had inspected the map and its accompanying explanations,
“is to attack both the Upper and Lower
Towns simultaneously; one of the detachments to
be led by you, the other by myself.”

“There are obstacles to the success of this plan,
so far as it regards the attack on the Lower Town,”
said an officer attached to Colonel Arnold's division,

a stout fat man, with a red face and the convivial
air of a bon-vivant; “the path is difficult; the
ice is piled many feet in height upon it in some
places, and we have no guide. The last would be
an insurmountable objection in itself.”

“Ha, Major Brown!” said Montgomery, quickly,
“I was not prepared for this dissent from so
gallant a soldier.”

“Nor would I dissent, general, if I were in your
division,” he said, aside, so as to be heard only by
his superior officer; “I have very little confidence
in my leader.”

“In Colonel Arnold?”

“Devil a bit. Transfer me to your detachment
during the assault, and I will fight so long as my
sword-hilt and hand are friends.”

“It cannot be, my dear major. Do your duty,
and I will trust your colonel to do his.”

“He may be trusted a little too far yet,” said
the officer, turning carelessly away to reply to
Colonel Arnold, who abruptly inquired, as if he
sought to interrupt their conversation,

“How many volunteers can you muster in your
own command, Major Brown?”

“Some one hundred and eighty, colonel; and not
a man will say no, if I say go.”

“And you will say `go,' I presume, major?” asked
General Montgomery, looking at him earnestly.

“Ay will I,” he answered, striking his hand
forcibly upon the table, as if to enforce his resolution.

“I trust, also, gentlemen,” continued the commander-in-chief,
addressing with animation several
officers around him, slightly bowing as he called
each by name, “Colonel Campbell, Major Livingston,
Captain Edwards, Major Mills, and you, Captains

Dearborn and Germaine, that I have your
assent?”

“You ha' mine, general,” said Colonel Campbell,
a plain-looking Scotchman, with harsh features,
but which were deficient in energy of expression,
who articulated every word with a broad national
accent; “but I relee for our success mair
on your courage, gude fortune, an' the fears o' the
garrison, wha'll na anteecepate an assault, than on
the aaction and eenergy of our deesperited troops.
How early 'll ye mak' the attack?”

“At five o'clock.”

“I regret, General Montgomery,” observed, in a
slow, formal tone of voice and manner, a slender,
dark-complexioned gentleman, with a high forehead
and an oval face, who wore a military undress,
over which was thrown a Spanish mantle, studiously
arranged about his person in graceful folds,
and who had been once or twice addressed as
Major Livingston, “that I am under the necessity
of opposing this desperate enterprise, proposed by
you at a period when our soldiers are in a situation
of deprivation and suffering that would fill with
despair a mind less energetic or,” he continued,
bowing with grave politeness, “a spirit less brave
than your own. I fear your sanguine hopes and
our desperate situation urge you to a step which
reason, and a sedate, unbiased judgment would,
at another time, present to you in a very different
light than you are now inclined to behold it.”

“Major Livingston's opinions are doubtless of
weight, and entitled to deliberate consideration,”
said Captain Morgan, commander of a rifle corps,
a man in whose face was written intrepidity and
decision, “and shall be duly weighed and discussed
by the sober judgment of our senses after the assault.
I agree with you, general, heart and hand,

not only in the expediency, but the absolute necessity,
of taking the step you have proposed. It is
useless to sum up the arguments in its favour.
Their name is Legion. There is one, and an important
one, which will be an argumentum ad
hominem to each soldier, and act as a spur in inducing
those whose term of service is expired to
volunteer cheerfully. It is this: if we capture the
city after a long and close siege, which we are not
so sure of by capitulation, not a soldier can touch
a stiver, not an old dame's knitting-needle, as his
share of the enemy's possessions. We must march
in as soberly as we would go to church. But if
we carry the town by assault, our men will profit
by the rights of war in such cases conferred on the
captors of a fortified town when taken by storm.”

“These arguments,” observed Major Livingston,
sarcastically, “become a Janissary rather than an
American officer.”

“Far be it from me, gentlemen, to add to the
horrors of war unnecessarily,” replied Captain
Morgan, colouring with rising anger; “but, as I
have observed, this is the lever which will move
the troops, and one which, from the days of Julius
Cæsar, has never been applied in vain.”

“I believe,” said General Montgomery, rising,
“that, with but one exception,” glancing towards
Major Livingston as he spoke, “you are, gentlemen,
unanimous in the opinion I have advanced
as to the expediency of taking immediate and more
decisive measures to bring this siege to a close.
I feel flattered by this expression of your sentiments.
From the first I felt confident I should not
be alone in this enterprise. If Major Livingston
will have the kindness to honour me with a few
moments' conversation after the council breaks up,
I think I shall be able to win him by arguments

as potent, at least, as those my friend, Captain
Morgan, proposed levelling at the troops.”

The gentleman addressed nodded a grave assent,
and the general continued:

“I will now proceed, gentlemen, to detail my
plan of attack, and arrange with you the best mode
of carrying it into successful operation.”

While the council was engaged in discussing
the important business laid before it, the sentinel
announced a guard with a prisoner, taken near the
walls, who called himself a deserter from the city.

“Admit them,” said General Montgomery, turning
and advancing towards the door with expectation.

Two riflemen entered, guarding a youth dressed
in the picturesque costume of the Canadian peasantry;
then withdrawing to the foot of the tent,
they left him standing alone in the midst of the
council.

“Are you a deserter or prisoner, young sir?”
sternly demanded General Montgomery, remarking
with surprise his youthful appearance.

“I am prisoner now,” answered the youth, pertly;
“ten minutes ago I was a deserter.”

“Have you deserted from the garrison?”

“I was not in the garrison. I like my freedom
too well to be mewed up there, like so many sheep
waiting to have their throats cut.”

“I'faith, Carleton must be hard run to man his
bastions with such pigmies as this imp,” said Captain
Morgan, whose large size authorized a comparison
of this kind.

“Thou art an old boar,” retorted the lad, turning
upon him sharply, “and fitter to fill a ditch with
that huge carcass of thine than line wall or bastion.”

“There you have it, Morgan,” said General

Montgomery, laughing; “if Carleton's swords are
as sharp as his tongue, we shall have warm work.”

“And if thy officers' blades,” spoke the lad, casting
a significant glance towards Captain Morgan,
“ring not with better metal than their speech,
there will be little blood shed in this siege.”

“A truce to this saucy speech, malapert,” said
General Montgomery, peremptorily, “and see if
your tongue promise to be useful as well as sharp.
When did you leave the citadel?”

“Within the hour.”

“By what means?”

“Letting myself down the walls after dark.”

“What induced you to take this step and desert
your colours?”

“They were no colours of mine. I chose to
fight on the side where I had friends.”

“Can you give me, my lad, any important information
of General Carleton's operations?”

“That can I. 'Twas for this alone I leaped the
wall and hastened to this rebel camp. It was
noised about by a deserter they let in after dark,
that General Montgomery was to attack both the
Upper and Lower Towns at the same hour, and
that Governor Carleton was making preparations to
receive it.”

“Ha, say you so, youngster?” exclaimed General
Montgomery, while the other officers manifested
great surprise.

“Trifle not with us,” said Colonel Arnold, grasping
the boy's wrist till the blood turned black beneath
his finger nails, “or your young neck shall
answer for it!”

“Release the lad, colonel,” said Captain Germaine,
a tall, pale, and courtly officer about forty
years of age, who had not spoken in the council;
“how can he trifle, not having know our plans?”

“It puzzles me how in the devil it could leak
out,” observed Major Brown.

“I have mentioned it, except before you, gentlemen,”
said General Montgomery, “to no one but
my aiddecamp, Major Burton.”

“And I think I can explain how the secret has
transpired,” said Burton. “When I parted from
you at the tent door this evening, general, I espied
a Canadian, as by his dress he appeared to be,
skulking along the lines, and moving in such a
direction from me that I now feel confident he
must have overheard, from behind the furze and
stone walls which bordered our path, the conversation
we had together in relation to the assault and
summoning of this council. I succeeded in arresting
him, and he is the man whom I sent to you
under guard shortly after. He probably was a
spy, and has perhaps escaped again into the city.”

“It must be so. He told me so fair a tale, and
played the rebel so well with his tongue, that,
after drawing all the information from him that
would be of use to me, and accepting his offer of
services as a guide to the Lower Town, I dismissed
him to the ranks; cautioning the men who guarded
him hither, however, to keep an eye on his movements.
Wilson,” he said, addressing one of the
guards present, “go to Lieutenant Boyd's quarters,
and learn if that Canadian deserter calling himself
Luc Giles is to be found.”

“Didst see the deserter, boy?” inquired Captain
Dearborn.

“I did, and know him to be an arrant rogue.”

“Is his name Luc Giles?” demanded General
Montgomery of the lad.

“As true as Old Nick be named Satan. I ne'er
knew the hour both had not their heads and hands
full o' mischief.”

“It is clear enough, Major Burton,” said the
commander-in-chief. “This intelligence, gentlemen,
threatens to interfere with our arrangements.”

“But not with our ultimate plan, general,” said
Burton, promptly.

“How so, then?”

“The enemy, depending on the information they
have received through their spy, are expecting us
to attack both towns simultaneously, and will divide
their forces, to be the better able to repel both.
Therefore we should make one real attack with
the best part of our force upon the Lower Town
while they are thus weakened, and, with a smaller
detachment, make a feint on the Upper, to keep the
troops stationed there in play, and prevent their
coming to the relief of the quarter where we make
the assault.”

“It is well conceived,” exclaimed General Montgomery,
warmly grasping the hand of his aid; “in
addition, I propose that we divide our army into
four parts, one of which, consisting of the Canadian
volunteers, shall be commanded by my friend, Major
Livingston,” here he bowed courteously to that
gentleman, who, after a moment's hesitation, nodded
compliance; “the other I shall give to Major
Brown,” he continued, looking also towards that officer,
who acknowledged his gratification at the appointment
by a smile and striking his hand against
his sword-hilt; “these two divisions shall distract
the garrison by making two feints simultaneously
against the Upper Town at St. John's and Cape
Diamond. The third division, led on by Colonel
Arnold, and the fourth and remaining one, consisting
of my New-York troops, and commanded by
myself in person, shall make two real attacks on
opposite sides of the Lower Town. Does this plan
seem to be feasible to you, gentlemen, and meet
with your approbation?”

“May I inquire your object in selecting the
Lower Town?” asked Captain Germaine.

“All the commercial interests and a great portion
of the wealth of Quebec is in this quarter. If
it is once in our power, the citizens, to preserve
their possessions, will compel Governor Carleton
to capitulate.”

“I believe I shall stand alone in any opposition
I may make to General Montgomery's proposition,”
said Burton, looking round and observing the unanimous
approval of the council. “My objections do
not affect the mode of attack, which is admirable,
and worthy the military genius of its author; but,
I am decidedly opposed to General Montgomery's
leading in person a forlorn hope, for such, undeniably,
is each detachment destined for this assault.
It is not his place; and, if he falls, it will be a death-blow
to our hopes.”

“The fate of the day will not depend on one division
nor on one leader,” said Colonel Arnold, sneeringly.

“Neither victory nor defeat will depend on me
or my personal command, as you remark, Colonel
Arnold,” said General Montgomery, with dignity;
“if I fall, there will be others equally able to fill
my place. I thank you, my young friend,” he
added, turning to Burton; “but Richard Montgomery
must not lag behind while his brave men
are in the van. I give myself to this enterprise,
and live or die with it.”

It was at length decided that the attack should
be made between four and five o'clock the ensuing
morning. The council then broke up. The result
of its deliberations will show how the wisest
and most judicious plans are controlled by circumstances
which lie beyond the reach of human fore-sight.

As the officers were departing to hasten to their
several posts to prepare for the assault, Burton felt
his sleeve pulled, and, turning, saw at his side the
deserter, in whom, on his entrance into the tent, he
had recognised his old acquaintance and guide,
Zacharie Nicolet.

“'Tis you, then, Sir Monk that was,” he said, in
a low, sharp whisper; “I thought, when I came in,
I knew the blink of that dark eye, though it is not
now flashing from beneath a priest's cowl.”

“And your tongue betrayed you as readily, Zacharie.
But how came you engaged in the wars?”

“By the pope's toe! didst thou not promise, or
I did for thee, that I should be a soldier? One
o' Carleton's companies that volunteered in our
neighbourhood was marching to Quebec, and so
I joined it. But, after we got into the city, I
found thou wert not fighting on that side, and so I
took a leap over the wall, and here I am, ready to
fight or run away, just as suits thy humour. But
how i' the name o' all the saints came you to let
that Luc Giles come to camp and return to garrison
with his thick head full o' treachery. You keep
poor guard here, even if two long-legged loons did
make out to grab me,” he added, glancing at his
captors, who were both present, the one who had
been sent to find the deserter having returned and
already reported that he had disappeared from the
camp; “but I stumbled over them in the dark,
while they were snoring like a pair o' turtles, or
they would have been none the wiser.”

“You lie, you carroty-headed imp,” cried one of
the soldiers, indignantly.

“Silence, sir!” interposed General Montgomery.
“I suppose, Major Burton, that I am to look upon
this wild slip as one of your friends, come to camp
to learn the art of war under your auspices. You

are, doubtless, the friend in camp he spoke of. But
methinks, boy, you had best be learning the art of
spelling at school. It would better suit your years.”

“It's hard to tell a chicken's age by its teeth, as
Father Bon would say. If I had been at school
this night, thou wouldst have known less now than
thou dost, and been less wise in the morning.”

“You say truly, boy. From this time you are
attached to Major Burton, if he chooses to receive
such an adjunct.”

“Willingly, general. He has done me good service
already, and may be useful again. Perhaps
he may be serviceable as a guide into the city.”

“That may I. There is not a foot of ground
within the walls but I have crossed it, nor path
nor road to or from the city I have not put foot in.”

“I could have sworn it,” said Burton. “But
keep your restless spirit quiet a while, and do not
leave me. Your services as guide may be more
useful than those of your friend Luc Giles. Guard,
I will relieve you of your prisoner.”

“Ay, go finish thy nap,” said Zacharie, as they
were passing by him to leave the tent, both casting
on him no very amiable looks, “and keep a sharp
look-out when next you sleep, or, by the pope's toe!
you may catch a Tartar.”

Thus speaking, Zacharie followed his patron to
his tent, and was regularly installed as his confidential
esquire.