Only the gunners had
work to do. And although they shattered the walls of Quebec the
Frenchmen were undaunted.
"You may ruin the town," they said, "but you will never get inside."
"I will have Quebec if I stay here till the end of November,"
replied Wolfe.
But Montcalm smiled grimly. Winter, he knew, would be his ally. For
then the St. Lawrence would be frozen from bank to bank and before
that the British must sail away or be caught fast in its icy jaws.
Wolfe, who was frail and sickly by nature, now broke down beneath
the strain and the constant disappointments. Helpless and in agony
he lay on his sickbed, his mind still busy with plans of how to
take Quebec.
"Doctor," he said, "I know you can't cure me but patch me up till
I see this business through."
Soon he was about again, and making plans for his last desperate
attempt to take Quebec.
Seeking to find a means of reaching the fortress he had himself
examined all the north shores of the St. Lawrence. And just a little
above the town he had found one spot where a narrow pathway led up
the steep cliffs. It was so steep and narrow that the French never
dreamed of any one making an attack that way, and it was carelessly
guarded. But dangerous though it was it seemed to Wolfe the only
way, and he determined to attempt it.
Soon his preparations were made, and one dark moonless night
in September a long procession of boats floated silently down the
river.
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