During the time spent near the falls General Wolfe had not been idle. He had tried his best to draw General Montcalm from his secure position by making moves up and down the St. Lawrence and by sending detachments hither and thither, to attack and destroy various villages, towns, and isolated chateaux and farmhouses. All were given over to the flames, and night after night the sky was lit up by the conflagrations.
All of these deeds made the Marquis de Montcalm very angry, but he was too wily a general to be drawn into any trap. “Wolfe cannot dislodge me,” he said. “And soon his supplies will give out, winter will be on him, and he and his fleet will have to sail for home.”
His remarks were not mere guesswork. From various sources he learned that the English supplies were running low, and that many of the British soldiers were sick. Those on the fleet were growing tired of drifting up and down the river, and the admiral in charge knew that winter came early around Quebec.
“Something will have to be done between now and the first of October,” said the admiral. “To remain in these waters after that would be a hardship.”
“Something shall be done,” said General Wolfe, and, still weak from his spell of sickness, he began to lay new plans to force Montcalm into a battle.
Several days slipped by, and Henry was glad enough to take the rest thus afforded. On the fourth day a messenger appeared bringing in news from Fort Oswego.
“Hurrah!” shouted Henry, as he ran up to where Silvers sat smoking on a rock. “Dave is safe, and so are Shamer and Raymond. Oh, how glad I am!”
“That is good news!” returned the sharpshooter. “Wonder how they managed to escape?”
“The messenger didn’t know the full particulars. He says each was hurt a little, but not of any account. I can tell you, I feel much relieved”
“I don’t doubt it, Henry. I know you think a good deal of your cousin.”