A minute later Steve was gripping the feeble hand of his old commander, who lay in a camp bed, prostrate with fever. But even though he was ill and suffering he could remember old friends, and at once greeted our hero.
"Our escaped prisoner," he smiled, somewhat wanly, "come at my bidding, but very late, I fear."
"We were delayed, sir," answered Steve. "We feared that we should arrive too late."
"Would that you had, my lad. But Quebec is still not ours, and I have grave doubts about taking it. Montcalm has sixteen thousand men to defend the place, to say nothing of the enormous natural obstacles which aid him. I have seven thousand men, gallant fellows every one, and finely equipped and disciplined. If it were possible they would have captured the city for us by now. But it is not. I see no way out of the difficulty."
"Knowing that, I ventured to bring this young officer with me," said the quartermaster suddenly. "General, Steve Mainwaring was a prisoner at large and knows every foot of the surroundings of Quebec. He can tell you of a place where an attempt might be made."
Wolfe shot up on his couch as if he had been stung, and stared at our hero with blood-shot eyes, which plainly showed the fever from which he was suffering.
"You know of a place!" he cried eagerly. "Where? Where?"
"I mentioned that I had escaped down the cliff which falls from the Plains of Abraham. There are several tracks down it, and one I often used when I was a prisoner is known as the Anse du Foulon. Men could climb there, General, if the place were pointed out to them."
"Will you find it? Will you lead the men there?"
The hollow eyes of the general stared at Steve eagerly, while the sick man sat on the edge of his couch as if about to stand.