“It’s no fun, that is sure,” said Dave, as he puffed for breath. He had hold of the rope attached to a cannon.
“We long ago made up our minds thet war wasn’t fun, Dave,” answered Barringford, who was just in front of him, and also on the rope.
Besides the grenadiers and artillery there were with Murray a company of rangers under Hazen and another company of volunteers under MacDonald. The rangers and volunteers were on the left flank, and with these went Dave and his old friend when the time came for battle.
The English army had reached the ground occupied by Montcalm when the French general was shot down, and here they came to a temporary halt. In the meantime General Lévis was moving from St. Foy to a ridge of ground known as Sillery Wood. He had not yet had time to place his whole army in position.
“Now is the time to strike,” said General Murray, and he ordered another advance.
In a moment more the cannon spoke up, followed by the continued rattle of musketry. The onslaught was a fierce one, and in certain quarters the French were seen to give way. The smoke of battle was thick, and cannon ball and bullet often sent the mud and slush flying in all directions.
“The French are retreating!” was the cry a little later, and again the English troops pressed forward. But this surmise was incorrect. The enemy were merely taking a new position, and soon the English found themselves at a disadvantage, having given up a stretch of high ground for one which was low and uncertain.
The left flank of the army had been brought up close to the edge of a wood, and soon the French began to pour into the ranks a deadly fire that laid many a soldier low. Not far away were two block-houses, and these were filled with Canadian sharpshooters, who began to pick off the officers one after another.
“We must take the block-houses,” was the order received, and the volunteers rushed at one stronghold, while the rangers rushed at the other.
The din of battle was now terrific, and for a few moments Dave could scarcely hear when spoken to, or when a command was given. Bullets were flying in all directions, and he was struck twice, once in the fleshy part of the arm, and once in the little finger of his left hand. Barringford was also hit in the shoulder, but kept on fighting, regardless of the loss of blood.